Hot Chocolate
by KayleeThePete
Summary: "Well here was something he somehow remembered. He definitely liked cinnamon in his hot chocolate."
1. Hot Chocolate

First off, I want to thank, **Tinian I'att**, for beta-ing this story and getting back to me so quickly! This is a one-shot post-Snow Falls piece for John Doe/Prince Charming.

Disclaimer: You know that whole thing about "When you wish upon a star…"? Yeah, it's not true. I still don't own Once Upon a Time.

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><p><strong>Hot Chocolate<strong>

John – he had been told his name was David, but for some reason it didn't feel right and he still thought of himself as John Doe most of the time –stepped into Granny's; the diner was very busy, almost all the seats were occupied. He was here to meet Kathryn, his wife. It still didn't feel right referring to her as his wife, though she had said that was probably because they had parted on less than good terms, but she was determined to start anew. He scanned the crowd looking for her blond locks.

Instead a cap of dark hair caught his eye.

She was sitting in a booth across from the blond woman, Emma Swan, who had been part of the rescue party and the little boy, Henry Mills, who had been with them as well. Mary Margaret Blanchard. It was strange how it was so much easier to latch onto her than onto his wife, and that it was easier to remember two strangers, whose names were only mentioned in passing, than to remember that Kathryn was his wife.

All three were enjoying hot chocolates; Henry seemed to be trying to describe something to the two women, gesturing animatedly with his arms and talking excitedly. Both women were smiling at him fondly. The sheriff moved to stand next to the table; he was greeted warmly by the trio and the little boy started to speak to him as earnestly as he had been to the two women. Emma seemed to make some wry comment –trying to provoke him if John was not mistaken by the look in her eyes – which had the boy turning back to her, speaking and gesturing even more emphatically. When she grinned he seemed to realize that she was teasing. An expression appeared on his face that matched the blond woman's from just a moment ago as he said something back.

Mary Margaret's laughter rang out over the din, attracting several looks and smiles from the other patrons. The sound was so pure and happy. John could not look away from the joy and mirth on her face; her already beautiful features enhanced by a genuine happiness that seemed to grace her face so rarely. The laughter grew as Emma scooped up some whipped cream from her hot chocolate on her finger and smeared it on Henry's nose. Henry retaliated in kind, scooping up a near-handful from his mug and smearing it across her cheek.

Mary Margaret called to the waitress, Ruby, for more napkins while the sheriff made some comment about disturbing the peace that provoked grins and chuckles from the others.

Emma thanked Ruby for the napkins; then wiped the whipped cream off Henry's nose; John caught the looks of love and longing in both the child and woman's eyes at this moment, though he was not sure what it was about. Emma then wiped off her own cheek, but apparently missed a spot because Mary Margaret gestured her to lean across the table; she then used a napkin to clean off what the other woman had missed. When they sat back again, there was a look in Emma's eyes that John could not read, but it was gone so quickly he thought that he might have imagined it.

He took a step in their direction, forgetting entirely about his wife, feeling drawn –compelled to join the party of his rescuers. Mary Margaret turned, their eyes locked and he found himself rooted to the spot. The connection was so strong that it felt like if he reached out his hand he could touch it; a connection he didn't have an inkling of with his wife.

"David."

"_David_."

"_David!_"

John jolted when a hand landed on his arm, breaking both his gaze with Mary Margaret and the moment.

Kathryn was standing there, her hand on his arm. "I called your name three times, David," she said reproachfully.

He looked at her, willing himself to feel _something_, but there wasn't even a stirring. "I'm sorry, I'm still getting used to it."

She smiled – for some reason it didn't seem as warm as Mary Margaret's to him –and wrapped her hand around his arm, leading him over to the two person table she had claimed for them. "It's all right. Things will start coming back soon," she said reassuringly.

He glanced over at Mary Margaret again, but she was staring fixedly at the tabletop; he thought he could detect hurt in her features.

As John and Kathryn took their seats the mayor came through the door; John tensed, every muscle in his body poised for an attack. This was odd considering he had been told this woman was the one who had originally found him and brought him to the hospital, but for some reason she set off every alarm in his mind and body. She strode over to Mary Margaret, Emma, Henry and the sheriff, not looking particularly pleased; the four people at the booth tensed. Henry pressed himself against Emma, who, under the table, gripped his hand. The sheriff straightened to his full height and he shifted slightly in a way that was protective of the women and boy in the booth. Mary Margaret sat up straight, head held high, trying to look strong, but John saw the slight tremble in her form. Every protective instinct John possessed was screaming at him to do something; he almost got up, but managed to stop himself, this wasn't his business.

The mayor came to stand next to the table eyeing the inhabitants and their visitor. "Henry, what are you doing here?" she demanded.

Mary Margaret took a visibly deep breath and spoke up first, "I'm helping him study." She gestured to a couple of books lying open on the table.

The mayor's lips twisted into a disdainful smile. "How kind of you, but," she swept the books into her arms, "I'm sure he would have a much easier time," she grasped the boy's wrist and pulled him firmly out of the booth to stand next to her, "concentrating at home…away from…" she eyed Emma in a cold manner, "distractions."

John saw Emma clench her fists, but she just looked on in helpless frustration.

The mayor gave the two women one last scathing look, and tossed a disgusted one at the sheriff for good measure; then escorted her son out of the diner.

Emma rested her elbows on the table and buried her face in her hands; Mary Margaret reached across the table and gently placed a comforting hand on one of the blond's arms. The sheriff rested his hand on Emma's shoulder, making some quiet comment. She looked up at him, nodding almost bleakly, one of her hands now gripping the one Mary Margaret had laid on her arm.

Everything in John still yearned to join the group at the table. Why was he more drawn to a couple of strangers than his own wife?

Ruby stopped next to their table and asked to take their drink order.

"Two green teas, please," Kathryn ordered for them.

"Actually," John cut in; both women looked at him, "I would like a hot chocolate…with cinnamon, please." He didn't know why, but he felt compelled to add the cinnamon.

Ruby gave him a strange look for a moment, but shrugged and went off to fill their drink orders.

"David, hot chocolate is not really a healthy thing to drink, especially when you're just now on the mend," Kathryn told him chidingly.

He shrugged. "I feel like having a hot chocolate," he told her simply; she looked like she wanted to say more, but dropped it. She was, he realized, picking her battles; reluctant to start any fights. He wondered how long that would last.

Minutes later Ruby returned with their drinks and took their food order. Kathryn ordered a fruit plate; John ordered eggs, hash browns and toast; again his wife looked like she wanted to say something, but didn't. Ruby moved off again, leaving them to enjoy their drinks.

John lifted the mug to his lips and took a sip.

Well here was something he somehow remembered. He definitely liked cinnamon in his hot chocolate.

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><p>Most of the above came out in a rush, all at once, last night after watching episode three. I hope you guys enjoyed it! Thank you for reading and please let me know what you think.<p> 


	2. For Now

Thank you to **timenspace** for beta reading this! I'm thinking that I'm going to possibly make this a series of semi-one-shots for John Doe/David Nolan/James/Charming, they are all going to be not too AU, at least not yet... My plan is that you'll be able to read them either as one story, but that each one can stand fairly separate.

So Henry decides to have a little chat with his grandfather…

Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon a Time, wish I did, but I don't. (Sighs and goes off to pout.)

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><p><strong>For Now<strong>

It was an overcast, gloomy, late fall day, there was a bite to the air that hinted at the winter around the corner; the sea was a steel gray, rippling lightly in the cold breeze.

John stared out over the open expanse of water, finding that he preferred this cold solitude to dealing with the stifling atmosphere of his "home." Nothing in that place was familiar, not the rooms, the furniture, not his wife, not even his own name. You would think that of all places that might feel familiar the place he lived would. And that of all the people who would seem familiar to him his wife would. But they didn't.

No, the strange thing was that of all the places he had been, the ones that seemed the most familiar were the Toll Bridge where he nearly drowned, the woods and the place he was sitting in at the moment. It was an old play set designed to look like a castle. It had fallen into slight disrepair and didn't seem to be used by anyone. He sat on the edge of one of the platforms, his feet dangling a couple of inches off the ground, watching the water gently lap at the shore.

As far as people…well either that was even stranger or not quite as strange, he wasn't sure yet. The people who seemed most familiar to him were three of the rescue party that had found him. Emma Swan, Henry Mills and Mary Margaret Blanchard. He supposed that since they were the first ones he saw after waking that would create something of a bond, though Sheriff Graham had been there too and while John felt a closer kinship to him than Kathryn it was still not nearly as strong as he felt for the other three. But even that explanation didn't really explain to his satisfaction the strength of the bond he felt. He had been told that he didn't know them prior to the coma, so that was out.

He rubbed a finger thoughtfully over the scar on his jaw. He had discovered several scars on his body but this one intrigued him the most for some reason; Kathryn didn't know how he had gotten it, he'd had it since before they met and he'd never told her the story behind it. This fact was not an overly rousing endorsement to him of their marriage.

"Hey."

John was jolted out of his thoughts and turned his head at the voice beside him to see Henry Mills sitting down next to him.

He grinned at the boy. "Hey, Henry, right?"

Henry nodded. "Yeah. And you're Mr. Nolan."

He grimaced and looked back out over the water. "So I've been told."

Since he was looking away he missed the knowing grin on the boy's face. "You don't sound too sure of that."

"No, I'm not," John agreed.

"Why?"

The man glanced at the kid. "You'd probably think I'm crazy if I told you."

Henry cocked his head to the side, an odd smile on his face. "Try me."

John looked at the child for several moments before deciding, '_Why not?_' "Ok, kiddo." He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. "I'm not sure about it because David Nolan doesn't feel like my name." He waited for the kid's reaction.

Henry just shrugged. "Maybe it isn't."

John raised his eyebrows at the simplicity of the response and the boy's easy acceptance of what John had told him.

"Or at least it isn't anymore," the child added. "I mean, you lost your memory, well maybe now you aren't who you were before?"

The insightfulness of Henry's response surprised him; he looked back at the water thoughtfully.

"You should talk to Miss Blanchard," Henry said definitively.

John turned back to him, smiling. "Miss Blanchard?"

The kid nodded. "Yeah, she's my teacher; I talk to her about things sometimes and when I do usually it helps."

"What about your mom?" John asked.

Henry looked away, frowning. "I don't talk to her." John was a little thrown by the boy's tone and demeanor. Then Henry brightened a bit and looked back at him. "I talk to my real mom some, though."

John frowned. "Your 'real mom'?"

He nodded. "I'm adopted."

The man's confusion cleared and he nodded. "Ah…"

Henry nodded in return. "My real mom is Emma Swan."

Well that certainly explained the dynamics he had witnessed in the diner. "So you two are close?"

The boy shrugged. "Getting there. We've only known each other a few weeks, since I found her." He looked over at John. "She gave me up when I was born so that I could have my best chance." Something about those words pulled at John's memory, but he could not grasp it. Henry looked out at the water. "I know she likes me and I think she might love me, or will eventually at least." There wasn't any bitterness in the child's tone as he said this, a little sorrow with a jolt of hope perhaps.

The corner of John's mouth quirked up. "Actually, she does love you."

Henry turned to him frowning. "How do you know?"

John leaned toward the kid in a confiding manner. "Well you said that she gave you up so that you could have your 'best chance', right?" Henry nodded. "To give up your child so that they can have a chance at a better life takes a level of love beyond what many are capable of. It takes a selfless and unconditional love. And that is the greatest love a parent can have for their child."

There was surprise on Henry's face, along with a gleam of hope.

The man smiled reassuringly back.

Henry tilted his head to the side thoughtfully. "You know, as far as your name goes, you might try looking through a book of names. Maybe one will sound right."

John chuckled; then his expression became thoughtful. "Maybe I will."

"Henry!"

The pair turned at the shout.

Emma was coming toward them, a worried frown on her face. Her eyes went from Henry to John and then back again before she said, "Hey, kid, you're mom's," there was a flash of pain in her eyes as she said that, "looking for you; she was freaking out again because she couldn't find you." She held her hand out, "Come on."

Henry glanced at John who nodded in Emma's direction saying, "Your mom's calling you." They both knew which woman he spoke of.

Henry gave him a hopeful smile before standing up. "Nice to see you, Mr. Nolan," he said as he made his way down the play set.

John frowned contemplatively for a moment; then called out, "Henry!" The boy turned. "Call me, John for now."

Henry smirked and waved. "See you, John!" He turned back around and ran to Emma, happily grasping her hand and letting her lead him off.

John watched the mother-son pair go; Emma glanced over her shoulder and their eyes met. He sucked in a breath and her eyes widened. The vague connection he had felt to her sprang up strong, as strong as the one between him and Mary Margaret, though this one did feel different, a strong desire to protect her from all of the hurts in the world ran through him.

Henry said something to Emma, pulling her attention to him. She smiled at her son, though John could see that she was still as shaken by the moment as he was. He watched them until they were out of sight.

He stood and paced around the play set restlessly, deep in thought; eventually he came to stand at one of the railings overlooking the water. He looked back out at the horizon, taking a deep breath. If one were to observe him in that moment they might see, instead of a confused amnesiac man standing incongruently on a children's play set, a handsome, strong prince standing on a balcony surveying his kingdom, perhaps with a beautiful princess standing beside him or nearby, just inside.

John watched as the tide slowly crept up the beach, letting his thoughts meander through all that had happened to him since he woke up from the coma.

As far as his name, he decided that as soon as possible he'd take Henry's advice and look through some names to see if any felt right.

As far as the breathtaking bond he had with Mary Margaret, the overwhelmingly protective one he had with Emma and the warm, fond one he had with Henry, whatever these connections were they meant something and he intended to find out what. And maybe in finding out that he would discover who he really was.

For now, though, being John would suffice.


	3. A Step Inside

Thank you for all of the reviews, favorites and alerts! Here's a new part for the **Hot Chocolate** series. I hope you all like it!

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><p><strong>A Step Inside<strong>

It seemed, John thought to himself, that he was to perpetually be on the outside looking in when it came to the three people in the world he most wanted to be close to.

They were sitting on the patio outside Granny's, oohing and ahhing at a baby along with Ruby and Sheriff Graham. As John, from his position at the entrance to the patio, looked at the young parents, who could hardly be out of their teens, he felt a fairly strong feeling of familiarity for them, especially about the young man. John felt as if he could confide in him about anything, and trust him to have his back.

Ruby was the one holding the infant at the moment. "She is _so_ beautiful," she gushed at the pair.

The young blond woman grinned and turned to look at the boy next to her. "Well, she already has her daddy wrapped around her tiny fingers."

The young man grinned unabashedly.

Mary Margaret spoke up from her seat as she took a sip of hot cocoa, "That's as it should be." She smiled gently, though John could see pain and longing lurking in her eyes.

The waitress threw the father a look. "As long as you stay like that and keep Ashley and Alexandra happy we'll be good. 'Course if you hurt either of them again, I'll castrate you."

He grimaced, but soon was giving her a slightly pained grin. "Maybe you shouldn't be making such threats around the sheriff and deputy."

Emma had lifted her mug. "I didn't hear anything." She glanced casually at the sheriff, who sat across from her. "Did you, Graham?" She took a sip.

He shook his head. "Just the birds chirping on this fine day." Humor was sparking in his eyes.

The young father half laughed, half groaned.

"Face it, Sean," Emma said, setting her mug down, "you're damn lucky that Ashley took you back."

Sean looked at the pretty blond next to him, adoration obvious in his eyes, "And I know it." He took her hand and entwined their fingers.

"Can I hold her?" Henry asked from where he was sitting between Emma and Mary Margaret.

"Of course," Ashley said, nodding for Ruby to allow him.

The 10 year old positioned his arms to take the baby. As Ruby settled Alexandra in his arms Emma reached over and gently shifted his arms slightly. "Make sure you support her head," she cautioned him.

He nodded and stared down at the infant in his arms; after a moment he looked back up at Emma. "Was I really this small?"

"Yeah, kid, you were." John could see the tumult of emotions in her eyes that she quickly hid behind a smirk. "Hard to believe, huh?"

The boy nodded, looking down at the baby in his arms again.

"So," Ruby drew all of their attention; she was looking at the new parents, "Sean, how's your dad dealing with everything?"

The young man pressed his lips together. "Well, I more or less gave him no choice in the matter. We told him we were keeping Alexandra and we're going to get married this spring. He threatened to throw me out of the house; I said that it wouldn't make a difference and that we would manage. He threatened a few other things, as well as tried a few different types of persuasion, but we didn't budge. So he agreed that we could live at his house so we finish college."

John could admire the tenacity the young couple was showing in the face of adversity.

Mary Margaret smiled at them encouragingly. "Good for the both of you."

"Thank you," Ashley smiled brightly at the her.

Henry looked up at the dark haired woman. "Would you like to hold her, Miss Blanchard?"

The school teacher's eyes went wide. "Oh, I don't know…"

Ashley was already standing and taking Alexandra from Henry and moving her to the woman's arms. "It'll be fine," she assured her.

Mary Margaret automatically placed her arms in the correct position, though John could see she still looked rather stricken.

The young mother adjusted the blankets around her daughter and gently ran a hand over the baby's head. "There, see."

Mary Margaret didn't look at her, her eyes had been glued on the baby since the moment she had touched her arms. Her expression softened from the near-panic into a gentle smile.

John's heart seemed to stop in his chest as he looked at her sitting there. Then, in his mind, an image was superimposed over the one before him. Mary Margaret's hair was longer, she was in a pure white, flowing gown, cradling an infant in her arms; she was exhausted but she was looking at the baby with such love, pride, joy…and aching sadness.

He blinked several times and rubbed his eyes; when he looked up again things were back to normal, Mary Margaret's hair was in a pixy cut – not fairy tale, long locks – and was wearing her habitual skirt and sweater. There was an ache in his chest at the loss of the vision.

Her head lifted, and as if she had sensed him watching, her eyes immediately locked with his.

He couldn't breathe; the connection was so strong, it was like being pulled under in a rip current of emotion and she was the on rock to cling to. Her lips parted and the storm of her emotions was naked in her eyes.

"Hey, John!"

They were snapped out of the connection abruptly by Henry's greeting.

John took a deep breath and managed an easy grin for the kid as he stepped up to their table. "Hi, Henry."

A heavy blush stained Mary Margaret's cheeks. "Henry," she began, not even glancing in John's direction but keeping her gaze fixed on her student, "remember how I told you John Doe wasn't his name, David Nolan is."

"But he said I could call him John," Henry explained simply.

All eyes went to him – he noted how high Emma's eyebrows managed to climb on her forehead with some amusement – he shrugged. "I prefer it to David, for now."

"Oh," the dark haired woman looked down at the baby.

There was a momentary awkward silence; then Sean stood up and extended a hand to the elder man. "I'm Sean Herman." He extended a hand which John accepted; it was a firm, sure grip. The young man gave him a piercing look, as if he was trying to place how he knew him, but then shook his head and turned his attention to the young woman beside him. "This is my fiancée, Ashley Boyd."

She gave him a bright smile, shaking his hand. "Hi."

"It's nice to meet you both. I've been told I'm David Nolan," he gave them a self-deprecating smile, "but I go by John."

Ashley grinned. "It's wonderful to meet you."

The sheriff glanced at the other two women at the table before standing up and extending a hand to John. "I suppose proper introductions are in order, since the last time we met you probably weren't in the best condition to remember it. I'm Sheriff Graham."

John accepted the handshake. "I remember."

Emma rose and extended her hand, she was cautious about looking at him, probably leery after what happened at the playground. "Emma Swan."

He nodded.

"She's the new deputy," Henry declared proudly.

John grinned at the blond woman, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Is she? Well, I'd best behave myself with both the sheriff and deputy here."

Emma rolled her eyes and ruffled Henry's hair as she sat back down. "Emma'll be fine," she muttered.

John nodded; then turned for the introduction that he had been most anticipating.

Mary Margaret's cheeks were still pink; she shyly looked up from the baby. "I'm Mary Margaret Blanchard."

One side of his mouth creased into a warm smile. "It's nice to meet you, Miss Blanchard."

She glanced down. "Just Mary," she corrected.

He decided to try and distract them all a little by directing his attention at the baby. "Who is this?"

"This is Alexandra," Ashley told him, her voice bursting with love.

John gently stroked a finger along the infant's cheek. "Hello Alexandra." He looked up at the glowing parents. "She's beautiful."

"Thank you," Sean beamed.

John looked back at his four rescuers. "I've been meaning to thank all of you for finding me and saving my life."

There were "you're welcome"s and casual/embarrassed brushoffs.

He turned to Mary once again. "I understand you gave me CPR."

She looked down, smiling abashedly, before seeming to summon up some kind of nerve and looking back up at him. "It was…" she paused looking for the best word, "the right thing to do," she finally settled on.

He gave her a half smile. "I still thank you."

Neither of them looked away; then something that was out of character for Mary lit in her eyes and a more daring smile lifted the corners of her lips; somehow to him this expression on her face seemed familiar. "You're welcome," she said, her voice stronger.

Ruby stepped forward. "Can I get you something, Mr. Nolan?"

"John," he absently corrected; pulling himself from the eye lock with Mary to look at the waitress. "Hot chocolate, please."

She smirked. "Will you be joining the Cinnamon Crowd with that?"

He raised an eyebrow. "'Cinnamon Crowd'?"

She circled a finger in Mary, Emma and Henry's direction. "These three all take their hot cocoa with cinnamon, like you did last time."

"Ah," he nodded. "Yes, I'd like cinnamon in it."

"'Kay, I'll have it right out," she sashayed into the diner.

He turned to find a place to sit.

"Join us, John!" Henry said enthusiastically.

He turned back.

"Kid," Emma said lowly, drawing her son's attention to her, "he might be meeting someone."

Henry looked back at John. "Are you meeting someone?"

He shook his head. "No."

Before he could say more Henry had jumped up from his seat and moved over to an empty table to grab one of the chairs from it. "Then you can join us!"

Emma looked at him. "You don't have to," she told him quietly with a wry half-smile.

He looked over all of the people around the table; Sean, Ashley and Graham's welcoming smiles, Mary's pink cheeks but still warm smile, Emma's cautious but not unfriendly half-grin, and Henry's unending exuberance. A feeling of rightness was settling in his soul. He looked back at the deputy. "I'd love to."

He helped Henry pull the chair over and sat down between Mary and Graham.

Ruby came back out and set his hot chocolate down in front of him. "And so the Cinnamon Crowd grows," she said smirking at them teasingly.

The Cinnamon Crowd.

He was part of something.

He looked around the table at the people who had begun talking again and were reaching out to include him in conversations and interactions.

It felt good to no longer be on the outside looking in.

He had finally taken a step inside.

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><p>If you can't tell, I like the characters of EllaAshley and Thomas/Sean; there is so much potential story there, especially with Charming/James/John/David. They will definitely be making several appearances in this series, along with baby Alexandra. I hope that you enjoyed it! Please let me know what you think!


	4. Never Enough Cinnamon

WOW! Thank you so much for all of the reviews, faves and alerts! I never imagined so many people would like this series. I'm glad people are enjoying it! As far as this part goes it took some time to work it out; I had several ideas as to what I wanted in it, but it took a while to work out how to get it right. I hope that you all like it!

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><p><strong>Never Enough Cinnamon<strong>

John stalked out of the hospital tired, sore and irritated. He had just completed his physical therapy for the day; he was doing all in all very well according to his therapist, nearly 100%...except for his left arm. Most of the time he was able to cover how limited it was in range of motion, dexterity and strength, and with the rest of his body more or less in perfect working order people easily overlooked it, but at moments like this; after the simple activities in therapy they had him do, things that the average person would probably not even have to think about, but that he struggled so hard with, it was easy to get frustrated and angry. The fact that his therapy to retrieve his memories was going even worse – nowhere in fact – didn't improve his temper. All in all he was not at all in the mood to go back to a house that didn't feel like his home or a wife that he didn't love and have to deal with her pique again. Yes, he had finally admitted to himself that he did not love Kathryn; when he had told this to his shrink this morning, the man had not looked overly hopeful, though he had babbled on about time and triggers and such, however just as John was leaving he had said – "off the record" of course – that maybe what John really wanted/needed was "an entirely fresh start". He was beginning to really think that the good doctor was right.

That morning, before he had gone to his psychiatry appointment he and Kathryn had had a disagreement – not a fight, because the word "fight" indicated that some passion was involved, which there most definitely not been, but a disagreement, nice and neat…and basically passionless. She had been complaining about something he had done or hadn't done – he wasn't entirely sure what it was – and he had said something about her trying to fit him into_ her_ life rather than working on _their_ life; then she'd asked what he wanted from her and his answer had been, "Nothing." That was the moment when it really dawned on him that he really did not want anything from her, or with her; that he _felt_ nothing for her. Not love, not hate, not attraction, not dislike, not anger, not happiness…nothing. John was pretty sure it was that little revelation that pushed his shrink to give him the "off the record" recommendation.

"John!"

A youthful voice broke through his thoughts and had him turning to look across the street.

His black mood faded a great deal at the sight of young Henry waving at him ecstatically; then disappeared entirely when he saw the woman at his side.

Mary.

At the sight of her something seemed to slip into place in his heart. He grinned as they looked both ways and hurried across the road to him, Henry a little ahead of his teacher. "Hello, Henry. Mary." As it always did when they met, the connection between them hummed to life.

A blush crept up her neck to stain her cheeks. "Hello, John," she greeted. Her soft, dulcet tones coiled through him warmly.

Henry had glanced back in the direction John had just come from and a small frown formed on his face; he turned back to him. "Were you just at the hospital?"

"Yes."

"Is something wrong?" Henry asked before the man was able to elaborate.

John noted that Mary's face was equally distressed, though she seemed to be trying to quell it.

"No," he assured the boy. "I just had physical therapy."

"Oh." They child's face immediately relaxed.

Relief chased over Mary's features followed by concern.

Henry hopped up next to him, canting her head to the side. "Miss Blanchard and I are heading over to Granny's to meet Emma, do you want to come?"

Oh, did he ever, but, "I don't want to intrude."

"I'm pretty sure it's not intruding if we're inviting you," Henry said in a serious, thoughtful tone.

John stifled a grin. "Well, then," he swept his arm in a grand gesture. "Lead the way."

The boy smiled broadly and headed off down the sidewalk, the two adults walking side-by-side just behind him. John marveled over how right it felt to walk along with her beside him

"How's your shoulder?" Mary asked quietly.

He frowned. "Pardon?"

She nodded at his left shoulder. "You said you were just at physical therapy; how is your shoulder doing?"

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I thought I was doing a better job of hiding it."

An amused half-smile quirked at her lips. "You are; I think that Emma, Graham and myself are the only ones who've noticed."

He chuckled lightly. "Well, that makes me feel a bit better."

She gave him an understanding smile.

He looked back down the street, taking a deep breath. "Slow and frustrating."

"Well," she said gently, "from what I have heard that's how most people feel while in physical therapy."

He grimaced. "So I've been told. Doesn't make it any less irritating."

"You know," she lowered her voice a bit more, "if you're too tired from therapy I'm sure that Henry would understand."

He was already shaking his head before she completed her sentence. "I'm all right, sore, but all right. Besides," he added, "I could use the company."

She bit her lip, before saying hesitantly, "What about your wife?"

He pressed his lips into a thin line. "I'd rather not deal with her right now."

She tilted her head in concern. "Did you have a fight?"

He smirked mirthlessly, remembering his earlier thoughts. "Not exactly." He looked back down at her. "I just really don't want to think about her right now." Especially not with Mary walking so closely next to him.

She frowned but nodded slowly.

They had reached Granny's at that point, Henry had already skipped inside; John held the door open for her; she blushingly said thank you. They began heading over to the booth where Emma and Henry were already sitting on one side.

Mary glanced over at Ruby, who was behind the counter; then turned back to John. "You go on over; I need to talk to Ruby for a moment."

He nodded. "All right."

"Would you like me to order for you while I'm over there?" she asked.

"That'd be great, thank you. Hot chocolate."

Humor flashed in her eyes making them sparkle. "With cinnamon?"

He grinned. "With cinnamon," he confirmed.

Her smile had his heart tripping in his chest. "I'll be right back."

He watched her move off to the counter; then made his way over to the booth where Emma was sipping her cocoa and Henry had pulled out some homework.

John slid in across from the blond woman. "Deputy," he greeted her with faux seriousness.

She rolled her eyes. "Emma," she corrected.

He grinned at her. "Just get off shift?"

Emma nodded. "The crazy life of a cop in the crime capital of Storybrooke…" she said sarcastically, but at the same time he heard a hint of peace and satisfaction in her voice.

John chuckled, "Indeed, quite terrifying. Good to know our deputy is on the job."

Emma smirked, as Mary slid into the booth beside him. He couldn't stifle the satisfaction of having her near him, or the magnetic pull he felt toward her.

The dark haired woman met his glance briefly, blushed, and looked away quickly to glance at their companions inquiringly. "What did I miss?"

"Oh, just discussing the exploding crime rates of Storybrooke," Emma commented lightly.

Mary leveled her roommate with a look. "Just because this isn't Boston…"

"Oh it definitely isn't that," Emma agreed drolly.

"Really," Mary looked at the blond woman, "how did it go?"

Emma shrugged taking a drink of her cocoa. "Same-old, same-old. Leroy got locked in jail again last night; we released him this morning, as per usual."

Mary shook her head.

John looked back and forth between the pair. "That's a regular occurrence?"

Emma leaned back in her seat, tucking a blond curl that had escaped her ponytail behind her ear. "The first time I ever met Leroy he was just being released from jail that morning after being stuck in there the night before."

He raised his eyebrows.

"Graham or I will regularly pick him up off the street falling down drunk or, on a rare occasion, get called out to a bar to get him because he started a fight," she elaborated. "We'll lock him up for the night, let him sober up and then release him in the morning, occasionally with a small fine."

John canted his head to the side. "Isn't that supposed to teach him a lesson?"

"That's the theory," Emma confirmed glibly, as she took a sip.

"Doesn't seem to be working too well," he pointed out wryly.

She shook her head, setting her mug down. "Nope. Not in his case anyway." She ran a thoughtful finger along the rim of the cup, there seemed to be the slightest hint of a softening in her eyes.

John eyed her, making a mental note of it, and filed it away for later.

Ruby came up to their table and distributed the three cinnamon-spiked hot chocolates to John, Mary and Henry; then she handed a bag of ice wrapped in a towel to Mary, who thanked her.

John looked at the dark haired woman inquiringly until she turned to him, handing it to him.

"For your shoulder," she explained softly, the slightest hint of pink on her neck.

A half-smile lifted the corner of his lips as he accepted the ice pack. "Thank you," he said intently.

The color rushed up her cheeks, and she looked down at the table, murmuring, "You're welcome."

With her help he pulled aside his jacket on that shoulder and settled the ice, he had to stifle a few grunts of pain at the movements, but was ultimately grateful for the cold weight on the sore and swollen joint. He also couldn't deny that the contact with woman beside him and the heat that flared between them was pleasant. He met Mary's gaze for a moment, thanking her again; she lowered her lashes, a small smile touching her lips.

As he looked back forward he caught Emma watching them with narrowed, watchful eyes. The moment she noticed that his gaze had shifted to her though, she cleared her expression and turned her attention to her drink.

Henry was frowning. "Is something wrong with your shoulder, John?"

The man gave him a wry smile. "You know how I said I was at physical therapy earlier?" The boy nodded. "Well, it was for my shoulder, it's still healing from when I was hurt and the exercises that they have me do, make it sore."

"Oh," the child nodded in comprehension; then turned his attention to his hot chocolate. He took the cinnamon stick, scooped some whipped cream up on his and then stuck it in his mouth, slurping on it like a straw.

Emma raised an eyebrow. "Nice, kid."

He pulled the stick back out and canted his head to the side, giving her a look. "What?"

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "Nothing." There was humor and fondness in her voice.

Henry shrugged and glanced over at the front counter; then his eyes went wide. "Oh! They just brought out some of Granny's cinnamon rolls!" The three adults turned to look in the direction indicated. The kid was out of his seat in a flash. "They're best fresh and hot!"

"Henry!" Emma reached for him, but much too late.

The three of them let out helpless laughs; Mary slid out of the booth. "I'll make sure he doesn't get too carried away."

"Thanks," Emma told her.

The remaining pair sat in silence for a few moments.

John took a bracing sip of his hot chocolate, set the mug down; then rested his forearms on the table, fingers loosely interlaced, and leveled Emma with an even look. "Out with it."

She met his stare head on, giving him a measured look, and not bothering to deny that she had something to say. She tilted her head slightly to the side, thoughtfully. "I'm going to make this short. I like you, John, which you can count in your favor since I tend to trust my instincts about people. I think you're a good man."

"But…" he prompted.

She leaned forward. "Mary is a _very_ good woman; not the type of woman to have an affair with a married man, and I don't want to see her hurt."

John sat back, looking at the blond woman thoughtfully, getting the message loud and clear.

Emma's stare maintained its intensity. "I don't know what's going on with you and your wife," John pressed his lips together at the mention of Kathryn; Emma read him as easily as he did her, "I do know that you have no real fondness for her. But don't start something before you've finished the other."

Their eyes held for several moments longer.

John slowly nodded, his respect for the woman across from him rising even higher than it had already been. "I have no intention of hurting her," he assured the woman.

She gave him a wry smile. "People never do." She sat back.

"She's lucky," he stated.

Emma looked at him inquiringly.

"Mary," he clarified.

The aforementioned woman was making her way over to them with Henry, both carrying a cinnamon roll in each hand.

Emma continued to look at him with question.

One corner of his mouth creased into a smile. "To have such a good friend as you."

Surprise flooded her expression and she opened her mouth, to protest if he read her expression correctly, but then shut it again as a thoughtful look entered her eyes, followed closely by a surprise. Shocked vulnerability lingered in her eyes before finally a smile began to pull at her lips and she nodded. "Thanks."

John returned the smile. "You're welcome."

"Ok," Mary's voice was tinged with laughter as she and Henry slid into the booth again, "we got everyone a cinnamon roll."

Emma rolled her eyes overdramatically. "What, cinnamon in our hot chocolate wasn't enough?"

Mary reached over to help John adjust the icepack which had slipped down his shoulder.

Henry gave Emma an "are you crazy?" look. "You can't _ever_ have enough cinnamon," he said obviously, drawing a laugh from his mother.

As he gave Mary a grateful smile, receiving a glowing one in return, and took a bite of the roll John couldn't help but agree with the boy.

* * *

><p>One of the few truly clear ideas I had when I started this part that I wanted in it was the conversation between John and Emma. All in all I'm pretty happy with how it turned out. I hope that you all liked it! Thank you so much for reading. Please let me know what you think! :D<p> 


	5. Moving On

As ever, thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, faved and alerted this story! :D Thank you so much to **Happy Endings for All** for beta-ing this chapter! Sadly there isn't any real bonding between John/Mary/Emma/Henry this chapter and only a little next chapter, but I promise that it is coming after that! I hope you all still like it!

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><p><strong>Moving On<strong>

John sat in Granny's contemplating the chess pieces set out on the board in front of him. Kathryn had given it to him this morning, saying that it had belonged to his grandfather and was something he treasured; maybe it would trigger a memory. He had decided to come to Granny's diner, mostly to get away from the oppressive atmosphere of the house while attempting to see if the game brought anything back. Since then, he had been sitting at the booth with a cup of coffee like this for nearly four hours, and still nothing. He took a sip of his coffee, then set it down and picked up one of the elegantly crafted white knights from his side of the board; he ran a thumb over the face of the horse.

"Hey, John."

He looked up to see Sean standing by the booth with a mug of coffee, grinning at him; John gave him a warm half-smile in return. "Hi, Sean," he nodded to the other side of the booth, "would you like to sit?"

"Yeah, I've got time to kill." He slid into the booth and eyed the chess set. "Do you play?" he glanced up at the older man.

John shrugged. "According to Kathryn I do."

Sean grinned, "Would you like to test that theory?"

John shrugged. "Why not?" He reached out and moved a pawn forward. "How's it going?" he inquired of the younger man.

The young man shrugged, smiling; he moved one of his pieces. "Good, Dad's adjusting…actually," he smirked, "I think being a grandfather is really starting to grow on him; he's started to voluntarily pick up Alexandra and I'm pretty sure I caught him baby-talking to her the other day."

They both laughed as John moved another piece.

"So," Sean continued, making a move, "how're things with you?"

John contemplated the board. "Frustrating, mostly." He advanced a bishop.

Sean nodded, as he eyed his choices. "Ashley and I ran into Mary yesterday." He lifted his eyes for a moment, to look at the other man, before looking back down. "She said you were struggling in therapy." He shifted a rook. "She seemed worried."

John frowned; he didn't like the idea of Mary having to carry even more of a burden of worry than was already placed on her thin, overburdened shoulders. "Physical therapy is trying – tiring mostly really – the memory recovery…" he trailed off grimacing. "Well, that's just not going anywhere and some days I'm not sure – " he broke off. He slid a piece across the board, capturing one of Sean's.

"Not sure of what?" The younger man looked up at him.

John debated finishing his thought. He hadn't meant to say so much; he hadn't voiced the thought to _anyone_ and he really didn't know Sean that well, but…for some reason sitting here, playing this game and talking to this man felt…familiar, as if they had done this hundreds of times before. John wrapped his weaker hand – his therapist had been pushing him to use that hand more – around his mug of coffee and, supporting it with his right hand, took a sip, allowing himself a few more moments to contemplate finishing the thought. When he set the mug back down he figured, _what could it hurt?_ He looked Sean straight in the eye; the young man didn't flinch, just met him head on. "I'm not sure if I _want_ to remember. But at the same time I feel like my life is on hold until I _do_ remember."

Sean looked back down at the game, moved a knight; then looked back up, leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table and loosely lacing his fingers together, leveling the other man with an equally intent look. "Why don't you want to remember?"

John thoughtfully looked down at the game. He slid his queen forward. "Because," he tried to properly phrase what he was thinking, "I don't…_feel_ like David Nolan."

"Thus why you prefer being called 'John'," Sean supplied, taking one of John's bishops.

He nodded. "In part at least." He moved a knight with hardly a thought, taking one of Sean's. "David Nolan made choices, promises that I don't agree with and I don't think that I would have made. He had a life that doesn't feel like it's mine." He watched Sean make a move, then countered it quickly.

Sean contemplated the board. "And in the meantime while people are trying to get you to remember that life you have begun building a different one as John, with your own choices, hopes…" he pushed a rook forward, "and desires."

John's eyes snapped to the younger man's, their gazes locked for several moments. John finally sighed. "You've been talking to Emma as well." He shifted a piece to take one of the black pieces.

Sean smirked, taking a pawn. "Even without talking to her it's a little hard to miss."

John scrubbed his good hand over his face. "Hell." He glanced at the board and made a move.

The younger man chuckled as he studied his options. "So, you have these feelings and wants and you're worried about the possibility of regaining your memory and that interfering with them or at least confusing them." He slid a piece back to defend. John met it with his own move. "It also makes you reticent to take action on any of these." Sean captured one of John's pieces.

The older man nodded, eyeing the pieces; then making a move. "That sums it up."

Sean looked down at the table, ignoring the game for a moment; then he looked back at the pieces, shifted one and readdressed the other man. "John, I think…I think that if you really loved Kathryn – _truly_ loved her – you wouldn't really ever forget that, not entirely; you'd feel _something_ for her with or without your memory."

John stared at the board, absorbing what Sean had said; it echoed what he himself had been thinking. He moved his bishop.

"And," the younger man continued, moving a rook, "didn't Kathryn even say that you were leaving her when you ended up in the coma?"

The other man hmm-ed a confirmation as he advanced a knight.

Sean took a few moments, considering his words and choices before his queen took one of the white pieces; then he leaned forward, crossing his arms on the table in front of him. "Here's what I know, John." The older man made a counter move and looked up, meeting the other man's stare. "You can't live with your life on hold. There isn't a pause button on the world." His expression tightened and there was regret in his eyes. "All of those months without Ashley, feeling Alexandra move for the first time, kicking, being there for Ashley through morning sickness, hearing Alexandra's heartbeat for the first time, holding Ashley's hand during the birth…I can't get any of that back. And I have to live with those regrets, but I plan on making sure that I add as few onto those as I can."

John found himself looking at the young man across from his with respect and admiration for the maturity and insight that he was displaying. He slowly nodded.

"Here you are, Sean."

Both men looked up to see Ashley approaching the table, pushing a stroller with baby Alexandra inside.

"We were just looking for you," she continued. "Hi, John," she cast him a warm smile, which he returned with a nod.

Sean's face lit up at the sight of his fiancée and daughter. "I stopped in here for a coffee and decided to join John in a game of chess."

She gave him a chiding look before turning to look at John. "Has he been showing off his chess skills again?"

Sean ducked his head.

John gave her an inquiring look.

"Not only was he captain of the football team, but also the chess team in high school," she elaborated.

His expression lit with comprehension. "Ah." He leveled a look at the younger man who pointedly ignored it while he slid out of the booth to stand next to the young woman.

"Ready to head home?" he asked.

"Mm hm," she nodded.

"Great."

John extended a hand to the younger man. "Thank you," he said meaningfully.

Sean accepted the handshake. "You already knew what you wanted," he countered, "you just needed someone to talk it through with." He began to turn away but then turned back. "Oh, and John," he pointed at the chess game, "if that's how you play when you're distracted," he used the finger he was pointing with to gently knock the black king on his side of the board over, "then I'm almost afraid to see how good you are when you're actually focused." He smirked and walked off beside Ashley.

John looked down at the board; his normally muddled mind for some reason was able to quickly and easily analyze the positions of the pieces and the remaining likely moves to find that he had indeed been only three moves away from checkmate and winning the game.

* * *

><p>John stepped through the door of the sheriff's office. Emma looked up from where she was leaning back in her chair, feet propped up on her desk, working on the crossword in the newspaper. "Hey, John," she greeted as she kicked her feet off of the desk; she set down the paper and pencil as he headed over to her. Her ponytail swayed over her shoulder as she leaned her elbows on her desk, gesturing for him to take a seat in the chair across from her.<p>

He smirked at her. "How very official," he nodded to the desktop with the finished and half-finished reports sitting off to the side along with her badge and gun as he took the offered seat.

She rolled her eyes, sitting back and crossing her arms. "What do you want?"

His expression became more serious; he leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the desk and clasping his hands together. "I need a lawyer and I thought that, being a former bail bonds person and now a deputy you might be able to recommend one."

She frowned in concern. "Are you in trouble?"

"No, no nothing like that," he reassured her, his expression lightening a bit.

Her worry cleared, but she was still frowning in confusion, she tucked a wayward curl behind her ear. "Well, what do you need one for?"

He met her stare head on. "Divorce." Her eyebrows shot up. "I'm ready to move on."

* * *

><p>I just had such a strong image in my mind of John and Sean playing chess and talking; it is also something that I could imagine them doing in Fairy Tale Land. Thank you so much for reading! I can promise more very soon!<p> 


	6. Closing Doors

Surprise! Two chapters in as many days! Thank you so much to everyone for all of the reviews, faves and alerts, they truly make my day! :) Thank you to Tinian I'att for beta-ing this chapter! I hope that you all like it!

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><p><strong>Closing Doors<strong>

John walked into Granny's and a passing Ruby greeted him.

"Usual?" she asked.

He liked it that he had a "usual" and that the server knew it. "Yeah."

"I'll have it right out." She turned adding over her shoulder, "They're in the booth."

"Thank you," he called after her, knowing exactly whom she was talking about and which booth she meant. Indeed, he found them in their usual booth.

All had their habitual hot chocolates laced with cinnamon. Henry was sitting next to Mary, both of their heads bent over books, with the teacher explaining something to her student. Emma sat across from them reading a newspaper, hands wrapped around her mug.

Henry looked up at John's approach and smiled brightly. "Hey, John," he said, starting to rise from his seat, his voice a little brighter than usual.

Both women looked up.

Emma reached across the table, keeping her son from getting up. "Uh uhn, kid, Mary's taking this extra time to help you study; no distraction tactics."

Mary met John's gaze, her eyes sparkling with laughter. He lifted his hand to rub his mouth, concealing an amused grin from the boy who sat back down dejectedly.

Emma scooted over to make room on her side of the booth. "Hi, John," she greeted.

"Emma," he returned accepting her invitation. He grinned across the table at Mary. "Hey."

"Hello, John," the dark haired woman greeted in return, her smile warm.

He thanked Ruby as she set his hot chocolate down in front of him. He carefully wrapped his left hand around the handle and slowly brought it up for a sip. His hand still shook, and he had to support the mug as he lowered it back to the tabletop. He looked up to see Mary smiling at him proudly.

"You're doing a lot better," she told him encouragingly.

He gave her a half smile. "Yeah," he answered turning the mug by the handle.

"What do they say about your arm?" Emma asked as she took a drink of her own hot chocolate.

John took a deep breath. "That while I will likely regain the use of it, I will still have substantially limited range of motion, and strength, and the dexterity of my hand will never be what it was before…whatever happened."

Mary was looking at him compassionately. "I'm sorry."

He shrugged; then lifted his right hand, wiggling his fingers, "I guess it's a good thing I'm right handed."

Her eyes lit with humor; that look and the fact that he put it there was enough to push aside his own frustration. He noticed that she had slipped her ring down her finger to twist it as she often did. For some reason whenever he saw the ring on her hand a warm, possessiveness that he didn't understand any more than the connection roared through him.

Henry asked his teacher a question about the material, drawing her attention to him. John loved watching her interact with children, especially Henry; she was just amazing with them. He'd thought on many occasions that she'd make a wonderful mother, and if, when he imagined her with children of her own, he was there beside her and a few of the children had his eyes, who would know. He felt the weight of eyes on him and turned his gaze to Emma; the way she was looking at him made him pretty sure that she could at least guess at his thoughts. He met her level gaze unflinchingly. The pair had formed a partnership of their own over the last few weeks; though he could tell that she was still leery of him being around Mary they at least had an understanding of the situation.

"I have something for you back at the office," she told him, draining the last of her hot chocolate. "We'll get it after you're done."

There was something in her tone and expression that caught his breath with hope; he managed to nod casually. "All right." He took a larger swallow of his drink.

Mary cast them both an inquisitive look, but she was quickly distracted once again by Henry.

John was grateful for this. He wasn't ready to make it common knowledge that he was seeking a divorce with the help of the deputy. He finished off his hot chocolate as quickly as possible without being rude or raising suspicion. "I'm ready." He turned to the blond who nodded.

"I'll be back," she assured the other two, who watched them curiously, as they slid out of the booth and headed out of the diner.

"What's up?" he asked once they were heading down the sidewalk toward the sheriff's office.

"I ran into Louis earlier; he was on his way home with the flu, he gave me the paperwork to pass on to you," she explained, pushing the door to the office open. Louis was the lawyer she had found to help him with his divorce.

Graham was returning to his desk from the coffee pot, mug in hand.

"Hey, Graham," Emma greeted.

"I thought you were on break for another half-hour," he said, glancing at the clock.

"I am," she affirmed, moving to her desk and grabbing a manila envelope off it. "I just had to grab something." She held it up for him to see. She then turned back around and led John out. "Later, Graham."

"Sheriff," John nodded as he followed her out.

He heard Graham's muffled response through the door.

Emma handed him the envelope.

His hands shook slightly as he lifted the flap and pulled out the sheave of papers; he let out a relieved sigh at the sight of the official script and wording. He looked back up at her. "Thank you."

She shrugged. "I just introduced you to a lawyer."

He smirked, replacing the papers. "You did more than that."

She shoved her hands into her pockets. "What do you plan to do?"

He glanced in the direction of his house. "I'm going to get packed. I'll give Kathryn the papers when she gets home, and then I'll leave."

She looked at him a bit concerned. "Where will you go?"

"I'll check into Granny's for now."

She shifted a little. "Would you like a ride to the B and B?"

He looked at her, surprised at the offer; she was looking at him with a guarded nervousness, one side of his mouth quirked up into a smile. "Yeah, thanks."

She nodded her head firmly. "Okay, what time?"

He thought for a moment. "Five thirty; that should give me enough time to talk to Kathryn."

"All right." She turned back toward the diner. "See you later, John."

"Until later, Emma."

* * *

><p>John set the suitcase down on the bed in the spare bedroom. He had been sleeping in here since leaving the hospital, explaining to Kathryn that it didn't feel right sharing a bed with a woman he didn't really know. He had already placed two bags in the entranceway; on top of one sat the papers for Kathryn to find when she got in.<p>

This would likely be his last bag; there was very little, aside from his clothing, he wanted to take with him. He picked up the chess set from its resting place next to the bed; he turned it reverently in his hands. While he didn't have any memories attached to this set from before, he was starting to create new ones with the frequent games he and Sean played, usually two or three times a week. He smiled, enjoying the memories and habits he was building in this new life. He settled the set into the bag and then turned back to the last drawer in the chest for what was left of his clothing.

The entranceway door opened. "David, I'm home!" Kathryn called.

John kept packing while things went quiet below. After several minutes feet rapidly ascended the stairs; he braced himself for what was to come.

"David, what is this?" Kathryn demanded, coming through the door to the room, holding up the envelope.

He glanced up at her. "Divorce papers," he stated simply, before he set a couple of shirts inside the bag.

"But David, why?" she asked.

He was truly astonished that she was so surprised. "I want a divorce, Kathryn."

"But why do you want one, David?" He felt a twinge of annoyance every time she called him David, but said nothing. "This is our second chance."

He sighed. "No, Kathryn, it isn't." He braced his hands on the rigid sides of the suitcase. "I'm tired of trying to live a life that isn't mine." He looked at her over his shoulder.

She frowned. "What are you talking about?"

He straightened up. "I'm not David, at least not the one you knew."

"That's just the amnesia, you just need to give it time," she tried to reassure him but he was already shaking his head by the fifth word.

"Kathryn," he took a deep breath, "I don't love you."

She went stock-still.

"And I don't think you really love me either," he added.

She shook her head, "No, I do –"

He was shaking his head again. "You love the idea of me." She snapped her mouth closed. "You love the idea of our reconciling." He pressed his lips together, a regretful expression on his face. "You love a dream."

The stood staring at each other from across the room; it might as well have been from a hundred miles away.

"I need to move on and so do you," he continued; he turned back to place the last article of clothing in his bag before looking back at her. "I'm not going to fight for anything, Kathryn. You get the house, everything in it, your money. We never joined our bank accounts so there's no need to worry about splitting up the money. I don't have a job so I can't give you alimony and I don't want any from you. It's really quite simple. Neat."

She was staring at him with an unreadable expression. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to stay at Granny's for now, until I figure out what to do with my life from here." He stepped closer to her. "Can you really say that you won't be a little relieved to get back to your own life?"

She stared at him for a moment longer before a wistful smile twisted her lips. "Good bye, David."

"Good bye, Kathryn."

He zipped the bag closed and carried it downstairs, leaving her standing in the room.

There was a knock at the door; he opened it to reveal Emma.

"Right on time," he stated.

She smirked. "I try. Ready?"

"Definitely."

She slung a sports bag over her shoulder and picked up another suitcase in her free hand.

John felt this old fashioned, chivalrous need to be the one to take most of the bags, but with his arm, he just wasn't able.

Emma headed over to her little yellow bug, opening the door and tossing the bags in the back.

John looked around the entranceway one last time before stepping out the door and closing it behind him.

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><p>So my story is now officially diverted from the cannon as of this past episode, but what I will be trying to do is kinda weaving what happens in the TV series into this story so it won't be entirely divergent from it. It is timeline-wise quite a bit beyond where the show is right now, so it should be interesting to say the least. Thank you for reading!<p> 


	7. Echoes

Ever and always, thank you to everyone who reviewed, faved and alerted. Thank you to **Happy Endings for All** for beta-ing! :D

I can't believe how much I'm updating, though in large part it's due to the fact that the chapters are so short, and that I am planning on doing a special Christmas chapter that I need to get the story up to timeline-wise. That chapter is going to be substantially longer than the others, so once I really start working on it if might be a little longer between chapters. So if you don't hear from me on this story for little longer than usual, that's why, but I'll likely give you forewarning.

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><p><strong>Echoes<strong>

John was heading down the street, sack of groceries in one hand – Granny had kindly offered to let him use the kitchen in the B&B since he was going to be a rather long-time resident; she had also given him a standing invitation to eat with her and Ruby. It wasn't an ideal set up, but it would work for now.

Louis had told him yesterday that Kathryn's lawyer was combing through the divorce paperwork with a fine-tooth comb, looking for some hidden catch, of which there was none. John had no desire or intention of hurting Kathryn any further than he already had. He just hoped that the lawyer wasn't doing this just to milk her for more money. As things currently stood, it was going to be a while before the divorce was finalized. He had only given Kathryn the paperwork yesterday and he was already wishing it was all over.

"John!"

He spun at the familiar, sweet voice.

Mary jogged lightly to catch up to him. He found a smile spreading across his face, as it always did when he saw her. "Hello, Mary."

"Hi," she breathed, staring at him for a moment, before she shook herself and a concerned look came over her face. "Um, Emma said that you moved out of your house?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Kathryn and I are getting a divorce."

Was that joy that flashed in her eyes before worry settled once more?

"I didn't know things were going badly between you two."

John shook his head. "Not badly, just nowhere." At her confusion he elaborated. "Our marriage never felt real to me. And I realized that I didn't love her. It was better for us to separate and move on."

"Oh," she said breathily.

Their gazes locked, the connection between them hummed. He felt himself falling into her eyes; it was so tempting to forget that his divorce wasn't yet finalized, and that he was still technically married. More than anything he wanted to bend his head, close the small space between them and kiss her. The pull was so strong, and somehow he knew that her lips would be soft and pliant, that her frame would fit perfectly against his, that she would taste of cinnamon and chocolate.

Their lips were inches apart when the blaring of a car horn jolted them back to reality.

Her head dropped, red flaring up her neck and cheeks.

John's heart was pounding and he could see Mary's chest was rising and falling much faster than usual.

She lifted her eyes a bit and realized that one of her hands had risen to grip his coat; she snatched it back as though burned, and if how he was feeling was any indicator for her, she may well have been.

He looked upward, swallowing hard, trying to rein in the galloping rate of his pulse.

Mary took a step back, though the air around them still seemed to crackle with electricity.

She cleared her throat nervously. "So, Emma said you were staying at Granny's?" Her voice was far too husky for the good of his control.

He nodded, swallowing thickly again. "Yeah, at least until I can find somewhere else to live." He quirked up a corner of his lips. "Though according to her there aren't any vacancies in town. She said something about a curse?" The joke eased the tension the slightest amount.

She squeezed her eyes shut with a half-laugh-half-groan. "Yes. The curse." She looked down at the sidewalk.

He raised an enquiring brow once she looked back up.

She took a deep breath. "Henry thinks that everyone in Storybrooke is a fairy tale character; that we have all been trapped here by a curse."

He should have been amused. He should have grinned and laughed it off. He should have shaken his head at the boy's extremely active and vivid imagination. But none of these happened. Instead he felt a nagging pull at the back of his mind, something demanding that he take it seriously. "Really?"

"Yeah." She looked down for a moment, the looked back up. "Except for Emma, apparently."

John cleared his throat. "So, who are you and I supposed to be?"

Their eyes were once again locked together; she didn't seem to draw a breath. She swallowed. "It – it's silly." It didn't sound like it was silly from her tone; her voice was far too thick and it sounded more like a weak protest.

He stepped closer, his heart racing; he swore he could see her pulse fluttering fast as a butterfly's wing in her throat. "Humor me," he requested, his voice low and horse.

Mary's lips parted. "I – I'm…Snow White…"

A soft voice echoed through his head saying tauntingly, _"Because you don't want me to tell anyone who you really _are_…Snow White." _He moved even closer, there was hardly any space between them now.

"You're…" she began.

"John! Ms. Blanchard!"

They both looked up at Henry's call to see him racing toward them, Emma following only a few steps behind.

Mary moved to step back, but he gently grabbed her arm with his free hand.

"Mary, who am I?" His eyes bore into her.

She lifted her eyes to his once more, took a deep breath and said quietly, "You're Prince Charming."

All the air left his lungs in a whoosh. There was a roaring in his ears. He could hear a voice, one very similar to Mary's but with a strength and confidence that hers lacked, say sarcastically, _"Aren't you a real Prince Charming?"_

"Hey!" Henry latched onto John's arm, breaking him from the spell.

John barely managed to work a smile onto his face, his heart was still beating far faster than it should and he was feeling a little light headed. "Hi, Henry. How's it going?"

Mary was smiling weakly at Emma who looked back and forth between them with narrowed eyes.

"Pretty good. Emma and I're going to Granny's; you guys wanna come?"

"Thanks, but I have to get these groceries into the fridge," he held the bag up in emphasis. "Another time."

Henry shrugged. "Ok. How 'bout you, Ms. Blanchard?"

She managed a more convincing smile. "I'd love to, Henry."

"Great!" The kid took off for the diner.

Emma rolled her eyes. "I swear, that kid has two settings: stop and go, go, go." She headed off after him. She stopped abruptly and turned back to them. "Are you coming, Mary?" she asked, concern coloring her expression as her eyes cut briefly to John.

"Yes," Mary called back. She turned to him. "It's good to see you, John," she told him quietly.

"You too, Mary."

They stared at each other for a moment; she gave him a small smile, which he returned, and she headed over to join her roommate.

He watched the two women go into the diner. His mind was still racing over what Mary had told him and the echoes in his mind.

What did it all mean?

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><p>So…those of you who asked for sexual tension between Mary and John…how was that? ;) Thank you so much for reading and please let me know what you think!<p> 


	8. Logical or Rational

Sorry, no MM/John here today, but in the next chapter I can promise it! ;D Thank you everybody for the reviews, faves, alerts and encouragement! :) And thank you so much to Tinian I'att for beta-ing. I'm hoping to update again this week. And the Christmas chapter looks like it might end up being two chapters, one for the time leading up to Christmas and one for the day itself. I hope you like it, even though it doesn't have any sexual tension.

EDIT: Thank you to **James Lover** for pointing out that I accidentally called "John" "James". I am liable to make that misatake again, please let me know if it do!

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><p><strong>Logical or Rational<strong>

"Checkmate," John stated eliciting a groan from Sean.

"You know," said the younger man, "for someone who supposedly can't remember anything before a few weeks ago, you're exceedingly good at playing this game."

John chuckled. "Yeah, my shrink went absolutely to town when I told him about my chess abilities."

"Hey John! Hey Sean!"

Both men looked up to see Henry scampering up to their table; they greeted him fondly.

The child eyed the game between them. "Are you guys playing chess?"

Sean gave John a droll look, "We were, until he trounced me…again."

This drew another laugh from John.

Henry eyed the game. "Can you teach me?" He looked up at the amnesiac.

John raised his eyebrows. "It takes a little while to learn; don't you have somewhere to be?"

"Nah," the boy shook his head, "the mayor's in her weekly city council meeting and Emma's working."

After a moment's consideration, John nodded. "All right, then." He began to reset the board

Henry was about to slide into the booth when Sean said, "Hold up, I've got to meet Ashley in a few minutes, let me get out." He slid out and turning back to the older man added, "Next Tuesday, John?"

"Sounds good," he confirmed, waving to his friend as he left.

The ten-year-old climbed into the booth across from him.

"So," John crossed his arms on the table leaning over. "What do you know about chess?"

"That's the king, the queen, a knight, and a pawn," he pointed to each piece correctly. "I don't know the other ones."

"This one's a rook," John held one up, then set it back down and picked up a bishop, "this is a bishop."

"Rook, Bishop." Henry pointed to each.

"Good," John encouraged. "Do you know how any of them move?"

The kid's face became confused.

"Each piece moves differently," he explained. "The pawn can move ahead two spaces on its first move but only one space after that; it can only capture a piece by moving diagonally one space." He demonstrated with one of the pawns, and then he had Henry repeat it. He proceeded through each of the pieces the same way. Once Henry had repeated back the movements on the last piece, the queen, John moved on to the basic rules of the game; the child absorbed it all like a sponge, retaining it quickly and with great accuracy.

Once they had gone through the basics, he had them start playing a game, knowing that the best way to learn the game was to play it. John didn't play up to his full capabilities, but he also didn't let the boy win, knowing that that wouldn't teach him anything.

"So," Henry asked, studying the board, "do you and Sean, play chess a lot?"

"A few times a week," John confirmed, taking a sip of his hot chocolate. "Who's he supposed to be?"

The boy looked up, frowning in confusion.

"Mary told me that you think everyone in Storybrooke is a character in a fairy tale," he explained, setting down his mug. "Who is Sean supposed to be?"

"Prince Thomas," Henry told him promptly.

Now it was John's turn to be confused, though there was a niggling feeling at the back of his mind. "Prince Thomas?"

"Yeah," he confirmed, "Cinderella's prince."

"Ah," John nodded in understanding taking another drink.

"He's also one of Prince Charming's best friends," the kid added.

"Really?"

"Mm hmm," Henry nodded as he moved a knight.

John considered his options and slid a bishop across the board. He then voiced what he had really been thinking about ever since he ran into Mary on the street. "Mary said that you think she's Snow White…and that I'm Prince Charming."

The boy nodded his head vigorously, using a rook to take one of John's pawns. "Yeah."

John captured one of Henry's bishops. "Why do you think that?"

Henry reached into his backpack and pulled out a thick, hardcover book with a title in gilded lettering, _Once Upon a Time_. He flipped it open to a picture of a dark haired woman holding a blue bird. "Because she loves blue birds like Snow White and looks like her." John could see some resemblance though the picture was rather vague. The boy turned the pages to a picture of a light haired man frowning. "And you look like Prince Charming you both even have the same scar." He pointed to the mark on the man-in-the-picture's chin.

John reached up to the scar in the exact same place on his own jaw. Again, the features were very vague, but it was rather uncanny how the character had a mark in an identical spot.

The bell above the door jangled; they both looked up and upon seeing who had walked in, Henry immediately snapped the book closed and slipped it back into his bag, staring down at the game in front of them.

The mayor strode up to them; John's defenses rose, as they always did when she was around.

She stopped beside their table, raising an eyebrow at the boy. "Henry, what are you doing here? You said you were going to the arcade."

The boy shrugged. "I got bored with the arcade games. I wanted a hot chocolate so I came here, and Mr. Nolan said he'd teach me to play chess."

She gave them a brittle smile that raised John's hackles further. "Well, that's very kind of him, but we should be going." She reached her hand toward Henry expectantly.

The kid reluctantly slid out of the booth. "Thanks for teaching me," he said to John.

The man gave him a half-smile. "We'll have to play again soon."

Henry cut his eyes momentarily to the mayor, but nodded. "Definitely." He then let the woman lead him away.

John watched them go out the door and down the street. He felt a stinging in his palm and looked down to see he had tightened his fist so much his nails, even as short as they were, had broken the skin. He reached over to the napkin dispenser and pulled a couple out, dabbing at the few drops of blood that were seeping through the small, crescent-shaped wounds. In moments like this it somewhat disturbed him how strongly he felt for certain people, people that he really hadn't know all that long. It wasn't logical or rational. But then so little seemed to be in his life right now. He stared out the window, slowly breathing in and out, trying to release the irrational anger that was boiling in him.

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><p>And there we are! I really wanted to have John teach his grandson how to play chess; it's something I could see happening in FTL had the curse never happened. I hope that you guys liked it! Thank you for reading!<p> 


	9. The Dance

I just keep being blown away by everyone who likes this story! Thank you for all the reviews, alerts and faves! Thank you **Happy Endings for All** for beta-ing this chapter and assuring me that it is in character because I was a little worried about that with this particular one! This chapter is an idea that I have been carrying around for this story for a VERY long time! I hope that you guys like it!

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><p><strong>The Dance<strong>

Granny's was uncharacteristically empty; the only patrons were John, Mary, Emma, Henry, and Sean and Ashley with baby Alexandra. The atmosphere was extremely relaxed; Ruby was spending the time chatting with them, rather than doing much waitressing. Rather than sitting in their habitual booth they were split between sitting at the counter and one of the nearest tables. John and Emma were sitting up at the counter with Sean standing beside them, facing outward to the table where Ashley, Mary and Henry were sitting. Mary was rocking Alexandra in her arms and softly murmuring to the baby. She looked over at the young mother. "She's growing so fast."

"Mmm," Ashley agreed. "I can hardly believe it."

John noticed Sean was leaning over the counter, speaking lowly with Ruby who was nodding.

"Are you ready for her to start crawling?" he asked, humor tingeing his voice.

Ashley blew out a breath. "Honestly, I have this feeling that we're going to go crazy once she does. I just know that she's going to want to get into _everything_. And it's a little terrifying."

Mary gently rocked the baby. "Likely she will, but she has two wonderful parents and a grandfather who will be there to protect her."

"She does have that," the younger woman agreed.

The soft strains of a song came over the speakers; Ashley went still and cocked her head to listen.

"Excuse me, Mary," Sean said, now standing beside his fiancée, "but could I beg you to watch Alexandra for a few moments while I ask this lovely lady for a dance?"

"Sean!"

Mary laughed, nodding. "Of course."

"Thank you," he gave her a gracious bow, and then extended his hand to Ashley. "May I have this dance, my lady?"

Ashley gave a helpless laugh. "Sean, we're in _Granny's_!"

"And we have plenty of room to dance," he gestured to the open area on the floor.

"Aww…" Emma teased them, smirking as she took a drink of her cocoa.

Ashley rolled her eyes, but placed her hand in Sean's and allowed him to lead her to the open space; he swept her into his arms and they began waltzing around the impromptu dance floor.

John grinned while he watched the couple move around the floor with love sick smiles on their faces. Their form was less than perfect, but the obvious love between the couple made any such mistakes inconsequential. A longing ache entered John's heart; his eyes cut to Mary to find her watching the pair with a look that matched how he felt. She seemed to feel his gaze on her and turned to him; their eyes met and held as they so often did. The air between them hummed; faint color crept into her cheeks but her eyes never wavered from his.

Alexandra began crying as the song came to a close, finally drawing Mary's attention away to her.

Ashley and Sean, having finished their dance, came over. "She's hungry," the mother stated, reaching to take her daughter.

Mary gently handed the baby to the younger woman, the same longing as always flashing through her eyes.

"Emma," Henry's voice drew all of their attention, "can you teach me to dance like that?"

His mother choked on her hot chocolate, and she was immediately shaking her head. "Uh," she began once she could manage, "sorry, kid. I never learned."

"Oh," he looked down.

"Mary knows how though," she quickly added.

Mary cast her roommate a look that clearly said that fact had been a confidence she hadn't intended to be made public.

The boy looked hopefully at his teacher.

"I don't know, Henry," she said.

"_Please_, Ms. Blanchard?" he begged.

The dark haired woman sighed looking at the pleading expression on the boy's face. "All right," she reluctantly agreed.

They both stood, Henry a little more eagerly than the woman, and headed over to the open area as another song began. She began instructing him in how to bow, as he was insisting on starting with that. Once he performed a satisfactory one she curtseyed back gracefully; she then showed him the proper placement of their hands and arms; once he seemed to have that right she began to slowly lead him through basic steps of the waltz; the music wasn't quite the right beat for it so they were out of time with it. The rest of the group was smiling and chuckling at the adorable sight that they made; when Henry attempted to spin his teacher it became full-blown laughter at the ridiculous image because of the huge discrepancy in height.

John couldn't take his eyes off of Mary; she was amazing as she always was with children, showing the patience of a saint with Henry's fumbling and having to adjust everything she did to accommodate for his height.

"Get over there, Romeo."

He turned, finally tearing his eyes away, to look at Ruby, who was looking at him sardonically. "Excuse me?"

"Get over there and give her a partner she can actually dance with," she said.

"She's teaching Henry."

"And I'm sure he could learn a great deal from a good demonstration," she told him slyly.

He glanced at the teacher-student pair; turned back to the waitress, who raised an eyebrow at him expectantly. Finally he stood, took off his leather jacket, draped it on his seat, and headed over to them, pushing up his sleeves as he went.

"Excuse me," he began politely. They both turned. He looked down at Henry. "Do you mind if I cut in?"

The boy grinned broadly. "Nope!" He scampered off to the side to watch.

"Ms. Blanchard," he held out his hand to her.

She looked a little unsure at first, but then she reached out to take his hand, curtsying while he bowed. "Mr. Doe."

Once they had straightened he spun her smoothly into his arms and proceeded to waltz with her. He truthfully had thought he might make a fool of himself, not knowing if he even knew _how_ to dance, but the instant she placed her hand in his it came to him like breathing. The beat still wasn't quite right for waltzing but they managed to move to the song with ease. During a lull in the music he brought his arm around her waist, she placed hers around his and they slowly turned.

"Do you know swing?" she inquired.

"I didn't even know I knew how to waltz," he admitted.

The beat began to pick up; she bit her lip. "Want to find out?"

He smirked. "I'm game."

The pace of the music continued to pick up until it was faster than it was before. He spun her and soon they were moving faster with more complicated steps and movements that actually matched the tempo better. He wasn't sure how it was he knew how to move, but he went with it. He could tell by how the music was swelling that the end of the song was approaching and a rather sneaky idea popped into his head. He began spinning Mary very quickly continuously.

She laughed. "John, stop! I'm getting dizzy!"

The music abruptly became slower and he stopped spinning her; she was still laughing as she fell against him, clinging to his shoulders. "Let's not spin like that again," she joked.

He chuckled, secretly enjoying having her so close to him.

Once she had regained her bearings she pulled away, still smiling widely; he walked with her back to their friends. She reclaimed her seat, saying that she needed a rest. He took his own seat at the counter.

Emma leaned over to him muttering, "Very nicely played," she teased.

He looked at her keeping his expression as blank as possible. "What do you mean?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "You spin her until she gets so dizzy that she has to hold on to you." She smirked. "Like _that_ was an accident."

He cocked his own eyebrow. "I have no idea what you're talking about." One corner of his lips quirked up the barest amount.

She snorted. "Sure you don't. Sure you don't."

John chuckled, taking a sip of his cocoa. His eyes drifted to one of the windows and a frown slid onto his expression. The mayor was standing outside, watching their group with a dark expression. She noticed that his attention had turned to her and she met his stare for a moment before turning and stalking off.

A noise beside him drew his attention; Emma was staring at the retreating form of the mayor with an expression that likely matched his own. She turned her head to meet his gaze; somehow, in that moment, the alliance they had already forged was further cemented. He might feel protective of her along with the others, but he had realized fairly quickly that she had the same instincts that he did; she was a protector, like he was. And even between the two of them he had a feeling they were going to have their work cut out for them with Madam Mayor.

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><p>And there you have it! I hope that it was ok! There's one more chapter after this one before we get into the Christmas chapters. Chapter 10 is already written and I will try to get it beta-ed ASAP. I will be starting to work on the Christmas chapters in the meantime. Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think!<p> 


	10. Decision

I know I keep saying it but thank you everyone for the reviews, alerts and faves! I truly thank you!

Much thanks to **Happy Endings for All** for beta-ing, pointing out a few kinks with this chapter and helping me work them out!

I've started the next chapter, which is part 1 of Christmas, but I'm on-hold until the next episode airs. I'm not sure when exactly it will be up, but most likely sometime next week. This was written last Saturday after seeing most of the promos for The Shepherd (not including the scene between Mary and Regina), but not the actual episode. I hope that you all like it!

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><p><strong>Decision<strong>

"Thanks, Ruby!" John called over his shoulder; receiving a wave from the waitress in return. He walked out the door only to crash into a smaller form. "I'm so sorry."

"I'm sorry," said an-oh-so familiar, lyrical voice.

They looked at each other at the same time. John's face creased into a smile; hers spread into a bright one in response.

"Hello, Mary."

"John," she greeted softly. Then her smile suddenly disappeared and she looked down at the ground. "Excuse me." She moved to go around him.

He frowned in concern, catching her arm. "Is something wrong?"

She slipped from his grasp, forcing a smile and not looking at him. "I'm fine. I just have to go." She hurried off.

"Mary – " John narrowed his eyes after her slumped, retreating form. He turned on heel in the direction of the one person he felt fairly certain would be able to tell him what had just happened.

He pushed open the door to the sheriff's office.

"John," Graham said in surprise.

He didn't bother to even respond, just strode right up to the desk of the one other person in the room, leaning down to plant his hands on it and looking right in her eyes. "What's wrong with Mary?"

Emma set down her mug of coffee, looking at him grimly. "Ran into her, did you?"

"She avoided me like I had the plague, what the hell happened?" he demanded.

She folded her hands on her desk and looked at him levelly. "Why, our very own wicked witch happened."

John sat down in the chair on his side of the desk and mirrored her posture. "Explain."

The deputy pressed her lips into a razor thin line. "Madam Mayor decided to tear into Mary; telling her that she's to blame for your divorce, ruining a whole bunch of lives, how she is basically the scum of the earth and that she should just stay the hell away from you."

His eyes narrowed dangerously. "Exactly what business of hers is my life?" he demanded.

"The woman is a control freak and, quite frankly, a real bitch," Emma told him flatly.

He clenched his jaw; he had never known he could be so angry,_ ever_. "Thanks," he said shortly, rising from his seat and heading toward the door.

"Where are you going?" she asked sitting back.

He turned to face her again. "I'm going to have a little 'come to Jesus talk' with our mayor, and then I'm going to find Mary and set things straight."

Emma cocked an amused eyebrow. "Do you want a sword for your fight, Prince Charming?"

He smirked at her. "Nah, this is one dragon I think I can slay on my own."

She toasted him with her coffee. "Happy hunting."

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><p>It took a few minutes but he was let into the mayor's office fairly quickly. The woman rose from behind her desk and came around to greet him.<p>

"Mr. Nolan, it's nice to see you out and about."

"Thank you, Madam Mayor," he nodded.

"Please," she gestured to a chair in front of her desk, "have a seat." She sat back down in her own.

He clasped his hands behind him. "Thank you, no. I'm going to be brief." He looked down for a moment, then back up, meeting her gaze head on with steely determination. "I thank you, madam, for finding me and getting me to the hospital, and for seeing that I had proper care. Now I'm going to ask that you stay the hell out of my business."

Her face became cold shock. "What?"

He stepped closer. "What I do, and who I see, is none of your concern. And I would appreciate you not interfering in my business." He kept his gaze intent on her. "This is a one-time warning. Stay out of my life and away from Mary Margaret as far as it concerns her." He nodded to her. "Madam Mayor." Then turned on heel and walked toward the door.

"You've made your decision, then," she commented.

He turned back to her.

She cocked a perfectly manicured eyebrow. "Are you sure it's the right one?"

He kept his gaze steady. "It's mine." He turned back around and continued to the door. He could feel her furious stare burning into his back, but he refused to look back; making a point of his own.

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><p>He had phoned Emma inquiring about Mary's whereabouts and was told that she had gone home; after she gave him directions to their apartment he headed over.<p>

It was an older building, but comfortable and comforting in a way. He knocked on the green door. Soft footsteps approached and he saw shadows under the door. It swung open to reveal Mary, eyes red-rimmed, and dressed in what he would term "comfort clothes", loose workout pants and an over-large shirt.

When she saw him her eyes went wide and she pushed the door closed, but he had anticipated this and had his hand braced against it. She slumped in defeat, a posture that ripped out his heart.

"Please, John," she begged softly.

"No, Mary," he countered; he moved closer, still keeping his hand on the door in case she decided to try to shut him out again. "Emma told me what happened."

She looked away.

"Mary," he reached out and placed a finger under her chin, lifting her face to look at him, "she's wrong," he told her firmly. "My divorce was not your fault, that was entirely between Kathryn and myself. You have done nothing wrong,_ nothing_."

She cut her eyes to the side, blinking rapidly; his heart broke over the tears she was fighting back. "Maybe I should still stay away," she said quietly.

"No," he said the word so harshly, that her eyes snapped back to his, wide. He began to run his thumb tenderly along her jaw; her lips parted as she sucked in a breath, his pulse was pounding rapidly and his breathing unsteady. "I know what I want," his voice was husky, "and who."

She swallowed; he could feel her throat working against the backs of his fingers. "How can you be so sure?" she breathed.

Looking at her, seeing her so vulnerable and the desire so naked in her eyes was his undoing. For the moment he forgot about his divorce, Kathryn, their witch of a mayor, the fact that they were still standing in the hall of her apartment in full view of anyone who should walk by. He brought his lips crashing down on hers. Nothing had ever felt so right. Her lips were just as soft as he had known they would be and felt wonderful against his.

She had brought her hands up to his chest, instinctively applying the smallest amount of pressure, to push him away, but almost instantly stopped, melted into him and kissed him back. She rose on her toes, wrapping one arm around his neck and the other came up to clutch his shoulder.

His free arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her completely against him. She fit perfectly. His hand around her waist slipped under the edge of her shirt, which had ridden up, somehow knowing that if he caressed her side –

She gasped and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. She tasted like cinnamon and chocolate, as he knew she would; he moaned. Her hand rose from his shoulder to his jaw; her thumb running over the scar near his chin. Something was so very familiar in that gesture, but he was too preoccupied to really think about it.

He backed her against the doorframe, running his hand down her neck and along her ribcage. Her fingers slid into his hair. He wasn't sure why he noticed but her ring had turned on her finger and he could feel the cool gem pressing into his neck.

Air was becoming a necessity, one that in John's opinion at the moment was overrated, but one none the less. Their lips finally parted, though they did not pull apart, and they pressed their foreheads against each other, both breathing heavily.

"Shit!"

Their heads jerked up at the muffled curse.

Emma was standing a few feet away, looking everywhere but at them. They blushingly disentangled themselves from the highly compromising position until only their hands were still linked.

"Uh…" Her eyes cut to them momentarily. "Right. I'll just…be inside." She rushed past them into the apartment and out of sight.

John brought his free hand up to rub the back of his neck; Mary ducked her head, her face and neck the color of a tomato. He let his hand drop again, and then lifted it to her chin, tipping her face upward. He pressed a kiss to her temple, "I'll see you tomorrow, Mary," he murmured against the skin there.

Oh-so-slowly and reluctantly he moved away from her until only their linked hands were touching; they kept the small contact until the very last moment.

His hand was slipping from hers when suddenly her fingers tightened around his, causing him to turn back to her questioningly.

Before he could react she had placed her hands on either side of his face, and in one motion rose up on her toes and pressed her lips to his. He was momentarily stunned, but soon settled his hands on her waist, kissing her back. This kiss was much more chaste than the one they had previously shared; she pulled away after a few moments, both of them breathless.

"See you tomorrow, John," she breathed. She sank back to the soles of her feet, her hands slipping away. He allowed her to back out of his grip. She continued to walk backward into her apartment, neither seeming able to look away. She stood in the doorway, clutching the door and biting her lip. "Good night."

"Good night," he responded, even though it wasn't what he really wanted to do.

She visibly braced herself and reluctantly closed the door before either of them could change their minds.

He managed to force himself to leave the building, though it had to be the hardest thing he had ever done. Once outside he leaned back against the wall with a groan. And he thought that he'd wanted his divorce finalized before…

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><p>So, am I being mean to Emma or what? Making her walk in on her parents making out... ;P :D Thank you so much for reading! For those of you who've been asking for me to upfurther explore the sexual tension between John and Mary how was that? I hope that you all enjoyed it! Please let me know what you think!


	11. Trust

I know I promised you all a Christmas chapter next but then I started hearing rumors about what was going to happen in The Heart is a Lonely Hunter and I realized that I needed to deal with that before moving on to the holidays. It's not at all a long chapter but I hope that it is still good and I am in the process of writing Christmas Part 1. Thank you everyone for the reviews, faves and alerts, so much! They help keep me motivated and sometimes in plowing through writer's blocks. Ever and always thanks to **Happy Endings for All** for beta-ing this chapter and getting it back to quickly!

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><p><strong>Trust<strong>

John headed down the sidewalk; it was far later than he usually preferred to be out, but Mary had begged him to do this for her. Emma hadn't come home in five days; from what Mary could tell she had probably slept little in that time. Bad enough that she had someone she was coming to care for die in her arms, but add to that he was someone she possibly was falling in love with. John really couldn't blame her for struggling with how to deal with it, but she _needed_ to come home and rest.

He pushed the door to the sheriff's office open; he looked around the dim interior.

Emma's head lifted from where it was bowed over some paperwork. She let out a soft, half-hearted snort. "Mary sending you to do her dirty work now?" she inquired sardonically.

John stuffed his hands in the pockets of his coat. "She's worried about you and since you weren't listening to her…" he raised an eyebrow, shrugging.

Emma scrubbed a hand over her face. "You know, I bet Mary would give any mother a run for their money in the worrying department."

He laughed softly as he took the seat across the desk from her. "She has good reason. You look like hell."

She cocked a wry eyebrow. "Thanks, _Prince Charming_."

He grinned broadly at her. "I _do_ have a reputation to uphold."

Emma gave a tired laugh.

He sobered, looking at her searchingly. "I know it's been hard, Emma."

She looked down at the desk.

He rested his forearms on the top of the desk, leaning forward. "But you have friends who care about you; who cared about Graham."

She rubbed at a corner of her eye, refusing to look at him.

"You're not alone anymore, Emma."

She finally lifted her oh-so-tired eyes to his. "Madam Mayor hates me as it is, Graham is gone, and she wants to take away my job…" She stared down at the report she was working on. "She's looking for anything to prove that I can't do this; ammo for the election coming up." She spread out her hands, palms-up in front of her, staring at them. "And she reminds me _every day_ that I'm only the interim sheriff." She clenched her jaw; looking up at him. "I'm _trying_ so hard to do this. I want to get this right," she told him fiercely.

John knew she wasn't only speaking of the job. He placed a hand on her arm. "You're doing a great job, Emma. Everyone can see it."

She clenched her hands into fists. "I've never had a place to belong; I know I don't _really_ belong here, but it's the closest I've ever felt to belonging in a place."

"Then you just have to keep fighting for it." He squeezed her arm. "Keep using the Mayor's actions to motivate you to continue fighting. Keep defying her. Keep showing others that she _can_ be stood up to. Even if you lose the election we'll work something out and you'll have made a point for others in this town."

The way she was looking at him pulling back and eyeing her warily. "What?"

She gave a short laugh and a half-smile, shrugging. "Nothing, just thinking that you actually make a pretty good leader, giving speeches like that."

He eyed her a little warily because of her expression and tone. "Thanks."

She began closing a folder. "How's the job search going?"

He sat back shrugging. "Slowly. There aren't too many openings around here."

She opened a drawer, pulled out something and closed the drawer again. "Here," she tossed the item to him.

He caught it deftly and looked down at it. A badge. He frowned looking back up at her. "What's this?"

Emma took a deep, tired breath. "A job – well, a temporary one at least."

He raised an eyebrow.

She leaned forward resting her forearms on the desk, lacing her fingers together. "I need a deputy to help me with this job; I'm trying to learn it as I'm taking over. I need someone I can trust to have my back."

John held the badge up. "I've got your back with or without this, Emma."

"I know." She said there was the slightest hint of wonder in her voice at that acknowledgement; he knew she was not at all used to having people to rely on. "But this makes it official; it visibly puts someone in my corner."

He looked down at the star glinting in his hand. "All right," he agreed. He looked up at her. "I'll take it."

"Great," she smirked.

"Now," he stood, clipping the badge to his waistband, "let's get you home."

Emma let out a resigned sigh and got up. "Right."

As they headed to the door John looked over at her. "I don't have to wear a uniform, do I?"

She cocked an eyebrow at him, giving him a look. "Do I _look_ like the uniform type?"

* * *

><p>So, what do you all think? I have no idea where the idea to have CharmingJohn being a deputy came from; I just had this strong image in my head of it happening. I had been wondering for a long time what his job was going to be since they still haven't revealed anything in the series and then after hearing about Graham's death I was hit over the head with this… Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think!


	12. Hot Chocolate Christmas Part 1

Ok, this chapter is un-beta-ed; I'm hoping that it is still ok, an there aren't too many mistakes or that no one is OOC. In this chapter we're going to be seeing other points of view as well as John's. Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, faved and alerted this story! I hope that everyone's holidays are going great and if not that they get better! Now settle down with a nice cup of hot chocolate with cinnamon and I hope you enjoy the chapter!

* * *

><p><strong>Hot Chocolate Christmas Part 1<strong>

John sat across from Henry in their usual booth, chess game in progress between them. Henry had been learning very quickly; John knew it would be years before the boy was as good as Sean or himself, but for someone who had just started learning the game he was doing_ very_ well.

The door to the diner opened and they could hear a pair of familiar voices arguing; they looked up to see Emma and Mary going back and forth about something, Emma gestured to Ruby for "two", which the waitress just nodded to.

"I don't see why we have to do this," Emma said as they approached the table.

"Because it's Christmas, Emma," Mary patiently told her friend as the slid into the booth, the dark haired woman next to John and the blond one next to Henry.

The man watched the two of them with raised eyebrows. "What's going on?"

"Mary wants to have a 'gathering' on Christmas Day with a bunch of people," Emma stated, eyes still on her roommate; she turned to him briefly. "I think this is your invite to Christmas, by the way."

John hid a grin behind his hand.

Mary turned to him. "Don't you think it's a good idea, John?"

He looked back and forth between the two women, one the woman he was in love with and the other was his boss. "Is there any way I can answer this and_ not_ get in trouble?"

"Yes." "No." were the simultaneous, contradicting answers.

Mary gave Emma a look.

He rubbed a hand over his mouth, clearing his throat. "I think I'll abstain. Though, I do have a question for you, Emma."

The blond woman cocked an eyebrow at him. "What?"

He leaned toward her on his elbows, raising an eyebrow of his own. "How long are you going to keep pretending you_ aren't_ going to let her have this party?"

Henry was nearly lying on the table with giggles.

Emma glared at John; he just smirked back.

The sheriff looked away, grumbling as Ruby set down the two hot chocolates; the women thanked her.

"Are you guys going to decorate for it and everything?" Henry asked hopefully.

"Mm hmm," Mary confirmed, which Emma didn't refute.

Longing was etched on the boy's face. "I wish I could help."

Emma looked at him, frowning. "Aren't you and Madam Mayor," she said the title mockingly, having never been fond of the woman but even less so since the most recent incidents with her, "going to decorate together?"

Her son shook his head. "She doesn't really like Christmas; she just has professional decorators come because everyone expects her to decorate for it."

Emma's lips became a thin line. "You've never gotten to decorate for Christmas?"

"No," he shook his head mournfully.

Emma wasn't pleased with this answer. "We're getting a tree this afternoon," she stated, leaving no room for debate. "You're going to help us pick it out, kid, and then tomorrow you're going to help us decorate it."

Henry's eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Yup," she told him definitively.

"Can I go to your party too?" he asked hopefully

Emma gave him a regretful half-smile. "Probably not, kid; the Mayor'll probably want you with her for Christmas. But maybe we can do something Christmas Eve."

Henry didn't seem completely pleased with this, but was at least mollified with the solution; he perked up, "What time're we going to get the tree?" he asked eagerly.

"After lunch," Mary told him with a warm smile. She looked at John. "Would you like to come with us?"

There was a warm glow in his chest at her invitation and smile. "I would love to."

Her smile brightened further. "Great."

* * *

><p>"What about this one?" Henry ran up to a very tall tree, staring up at it.<p>

Emma sauntered up next to him, hands stuffed into the pockets of her coat. "I think that's a little too tall, kid." She smiled wryly at him. She loved seeing the pure joy on his face, moments like this her heart ached for the years with him that she wished had been hers.

"Ok," he easily shrugged off that one, grabbing her hand and pulling her off after him.

She looked back at the sounds of smothered laughter from the pair trailing along behind them; she gave Mary and John a mock glare over her shoulder. They responded with Mary pressing her lips together to contain her laughter and John giving her a half-grin. It was strange. She'd never had a real Christmas in her life but she wanted to be sure her son got everything she didn't have, and it seemed like, in trying to give him that she was having her first real Christmas. When John told her weeks ago that she was a good friend to Mary her first instinct had been to refute that saying she didn't have friends, but then she'd really thought about it and realized that Mary_ was_ her friend, as were John, Sean and Ashley.

_And Graham_. Her heart twisted at that quiet whisper of a thought, she was still raw over his death; her friends were being careful not to talk too much about him just yet. She did what she always did and pushed the pain to the side, concentrating on the here and now, with her son and two friends who were still living.

When she had stepped foot into this town she'd never imagined that she would decide to plant roots here; that she would finally have real friends…family, because that's what they were becoming to her if she was honest with herself, the family she'd never had, but always longed for.

She was quite happy to allow herself to be dragged from one tree to another, discussing the pros and cons of each with Henry, with Mary and John putting in their two cents.

It was frightening in a way how attached she was becoming to all of these people, after so many years of being on her own. She was a loner, she didn't rely on others, but she was quickly finding herself becoming more and more dependent on these people. She was so used to coming home to Mary making dinner, chatting with her over a cup of cocoa, bemoaning things over a glass of alcohol, sitting around on the couches folding laundry together. Knowing John had her back both at work and outside it, that he was a good, positive male role model for Henry, and when Emma couldn't fix something for their loved ones he would do his level best to do so. And Henry, her son, what brought her to this strange town in the first place; he opened her up to these people and this place, he looked up at her so trustingly and hopefully, making her finally begin to think that she could be the person and mother she wished but never believed she could be. For the first time in her 28 years of life she was looking forward to the holidays.

"Oh, my gosh!" Henry cried and Emma found herself being, once again, dragged forward to stop in front of a tree. "This one!"

She looked the tree up and down. "It's not too tall."

Mary and John came to a stop beside them.

"It's perfect," Mary said quietly; she reached out to break a few needles off and lifted them to her nose with a smile.

Emma nodded looking the thick tree over, it really was rather picture perfect. "All right. This is our tree." She reached down and ruffled her son's hair. "Way to go, kid."

Henry grinned up at her broadly. "So we're gonna buy it?"

"That's right," Emma told him. "You and me're gonna get this paid for while Mary and John grab some wreaths."

"Cool!" he declared.

"Cool," Emma agreed with a smile.

* * *

><p>"You and Emma are really making his Christmas," John quietly commented as they wandered down the row of wreaths.<p>

Mary blushed, "All children deserve a real Christmas," she said. "Henry has it harder than a lot of kids, though," added sadly.

John clenched his jaw. "The Mayor has some serious problems."

She could tell he was holding back a lot about how he really felt. "When I first met Emma she called Mayor Mills a 'hard ass'."

He snorted. "She told me that she was a control freak and bitch after what she said to you. Then everything with Graham…" he trailed off, they were both worried about their emotionally walled up friend who had yet to really deal with the former sheriff's death. "And from her reaction when Henry told her that he didn't get a real Christmas I think her opinion has fallen even farther," he continued after a moment.

Mary bit her lip, unable to argue with Emma's assessment, but the woman still unnerved her. It really bothered her that she allowed Mayor Mills to get to her but she couldn't seem to stop it. "I wish I had the courage to stand up to her the way you and Emma, and even Henry, have," she voiced wistfully.

He caught her hand, causing her to stop beside him and turn to face him; his gaze was intense, catching her breath in her chest. "Don't_ ever_ say you aren't strong or brave," he told her sharply.

She looked down. "I didn't even defend myself to her."

He placed a finger under her chin; her heart skipped a beat at the contact, he lifted her face to look at him. "Would you have let her tear down Emma or Henry?"

Everything in her cried out against Emma or Henry being treated that way; she shook her head. "No."

"That's what really matters," he told her simply. His hand lingered on her chin for several moments before he finally, reluctantly allowed it to fall to his side.

They had both been treading carefully when it came to physical contact between them since the kiss. The chemistry between them was intense and the magnetic attraction undeniable; when they were alone it made it especially hard to resist.

He cleared his throat. "We'd better get those wreaths."

"Right," she agreed a little breathlessly.

He placed a hand at the small of her back as they turned to continue perusing the selections, and left it there. A small concession to their desire, need, to be close.

* * *

><p>They ended up choosing several small ones to hang on the windows and a larger one for the door; all of them were just plain evergreen, Mary said that this way they could decorate them as they wished with supplies that she already had back home. Mary and Henry managed to carry the wreaths between the two of them, while Emma and John lugged the tree back to the two women's apartment.<p>

"Archie!" Henry waved at his therapist enthusiastically; the bespectacled man raised his umbrella in response. "We've got a tree!" the boy enthused.

"I see that," the man smiled at the group. "Hello, Emma, Mary, John."

John nodded to the other man; it felt a little strange seeing his shrink outside of their sessions but he was really beginning to actually like the man. It had taken a little convincing but Archie had started calling him John instead of David.

The psychiatrist inspected the tree with a bright smile. "That looks like a very fine tree."

"I picked it out!" Henry told him proudly.

"Is that so?" he gave the other three adults an amused smile which they returned.

Emma ruffled the boy's hair. "He sure did."

Henry looked up at his mother, adoration obvious in his eyes; then included the other two in his gaze. "And we're going to decorate it tomorrow, right?"

"That's right," John grinned; he was enjoying being included in this family they were building. He looked back at Archie, whose eyes were roving over the group interestedly.

The therapist looked at the other man, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. "Good to see you getting involved, John."

He gave him one of his patent half-smiles. "I just do as I'm told by the 'bosses'." He nodded in the direction of the two women.

Henry snickered at the comment and Mary rolled her eyes.

Emma cocked an eyebrow at him. "Call me boss again and see if you're still wearing that badge," she threatened.

He grinned back at her charmingly.

Mary shook her head at their antics, turning her attention back to Archie. "Do you have any plans for Christmas?"

"Here we go," Emma muttered under her breath to John, who cleared his throat to cover a cough.

"Not really," the man said.

"Well," the teacher began brightly, "if you're interested we're having a gathering Christmas day and you are more than welcome to come." She glanced down at the Dalmatian beside the therapist, "Pongo can come too. And if he isn't doing anything we'd love to have Marco as well."

Archie looked at her, almost wonderingly. "Well, thank you." He turned his eyes to them all; even Emma was smiling wryly at him. "I would be happy to come. What time?"

"Oh, it's an open invitation; you can come at any point during the day really."

"Thank you very much. I will talk to Marco, but you can definitely count Pongo and I in."

Mary smiled at him brilliantly. "Wonderful! We look forward to it!"

They exchanged goodbyes and parted ways.

* * *

><p>Archie watched as the group walked down the sidewalk, chatting amongst themselves. Henry had been lamenting not being able to decorate for Christmas and how the Mayor doesn't like the holiday. Now the boy was glowing and bouncing along with the three adults; basking in the attention and affection that they lavished on him. They let him be a child, accepted his beliefs and constructs, going along with his idea of everyone being fairytale characters and were working to help him grow out of it in his own time, not forcing him to.<p>

John/David had been so lost when he had first started coming to Archie; so confused, frustrated and at times angry. Trying to deal with the loss of his memories, feeling trapped in a life that he didn't choose and the fact that he felt like someone entirely different than whom he was being told he was; that he wanted different things. Archie had watched the man's stumbling footsteps progress to a firm, sure tread. Going from the confused, torn amnesiac he had been when he first awoke to the now confident man who sported a deputy badge, mentored the ten year old boy with them and was looking forward to starting a life with the town's beautiful, sweet fourth grade teacher. And it was in no small part to the people who were walking with him.

The two women of the group he didn't treat, but had been watching as well.

Emma, when she first arrived, had sported such obvious, thick walls around herself that it hadn't taken him more than a glance to notice them in her very body language. She still had the walls, but not with everyone. Henry had wormed his way around them entirely and she so obviously loved him; when Archie had told the Mayor that she might have a custody battle on her hands he wasn't just threatening her. Emma and Henry were growing closer and closer as the days went by and Archie could see the boy's birth mother becoming steadily more disturbed with the Mayor's parenting methods. And if he was honest with himself he had to admit that should she bring a suit he was inclined to side with her for the child's mental and emotional wellbeing. Henry wasn't the only one who had made it past at least some of her defenses. She and Mary Margaret had grown remarkably close over the time that Emma had been there; Archie would even term them best friends now. John hadn't entirely worked his way past the walls but he had a strong foot in the door and it was obvious that the blond woman trusted him to a degree that would have been alien to her before coming here.

Mary Margaret, Archie couldn't remember a time that he didn't know the sweet, gentle school teacher; he had treated several of her students over the years so they had interacted frequently. Mary had always been so quiet and shy; so unsure of herself outside of the warm, safe, colorful worlds she created in her classroom and apartment. Since the moment that Emma blew into town Mary's hesitant steps had gained a surety that they had lacked before. She looked less lonely, and he had observed fewer bouts of depression in her. Slowly her confidence was building up and the man in their little group had a definite influence on that as well. He looked at her as if she was the only woman in the world, which, Archie was nearly positive, Mary had never experienced.

Henry skipped along going on and on about making cocoa tomorrow when they decorated and Christmas music to play; the adults watched him with affectionate, indulgent smiles.

_They looked like a family_, Archie mused. Perhaps not a conventional one, but the ties that bound them were surprisingly strong for the short time they'd known each other and their affection for each other was genuine. Henry thrived under the joint love and care of the adults, John found strength to no longer just follow but lead, Emma stopped running and was settling into a home, and Mary stood taller and found hope and joy that she'd been missing. They did that for each other; they fit.

* * *

><p>"Ya know," Henry commented the next day while they were all decorating, "I was just thinking that we can't do presents on Christmas Eve." He snuck another popcorn kernel from the bowl that Mary was making a chain with.<p>

"Why's that, kid?" Emma asked, holding the ladder steady for John who was hanging a garland over the door.

"Because Santa won't have come yet," the boy said matter-of-factly.

All three adults glanced at each other.

John cleared his throat. "He's got a point," he said, his lips twitching.

Mary smothered a grin, keeping her attention on the kernels she was stringing. "Well I suppose that we could get together the day after instead."

Emma pursed her lips, forcing herself not to grin. "Yeah, I guess that'll have to work."

"Why can't we get together _both_ days?" Henry finally burst out.

"Hmm," John commented with put-upon thoughtfulness, "I don't know if we can manage that…"

"Yeah," Emma mock agreed, "that's a lot of time with people hanging around this place."

Henry looked around at the adults his expression confused. "You guys don't want to spend time with me?"

They all burst into laughter; Mary reached up and pulled him down onto the sofa in a hug. "Henry, what on earth else would we want to do on Christmas Eve and the day after Christmas?"

"If we could swing it, kid, we'd have you for Christmas day," Emma assured her son with a half-grin.

Henry found himself rolling his eyes at the three adults, but grinning just as broadly as they were. He snagged another popcorn kernel from Mary's bowl.

Mary gently swatted his hand away. "Henry if you keep eating those there won't be enough for the tree!" she scolded him laughingly.

"But they're good, Ms. Blanchard!" he was still grinning.

She rolled her eyes. "If you promise to stop eating this bowl of popcorn I'll make you another later."

"Ok!" he immediately accepted. "Thanks, Ms. Blanchard!"

"And Henry, how about when it's just the four of us you can call me 'Mary'," she offered.

The boy's eyes went wide. "Really?"

She nodded. "It's a little strange in such an informal setting and since you call John and Emma by their first names."

"Ok, Ms. – I mean Mary!" He bounced off the couch and headed over to a box of ornaments, which he began to go through.

"Not afraid of a breakdown in authority from that?" John asked teasingly as he sat down beside her.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "From Henry, no…" There was a teasing glint in her eyes as she sipped her cocoa.

John grinned at her implication. "Me?" he gave her a look of injured innocence.

"Are you two going to be verbally copulating?" Emma inquired lowly, as she settled down on the ground near them. "Because if you are I really don't think I want to hear it…"

Mary choked on her drink.

John raised an eyebrow. "'Verbally copulating'?"

The blond woman gave him a look as she pulled out a string of lights. "And what do _you_ call it?" She stood up and moved over to the tree. "Hey, kid, give me a hand with these," she told her son, who eagerly did as she said.

Mary had buried her face in her hands.

John leaned over and muttered to her, "Here's what I say we do," Mary turned to him, eyebrows raised, "in the middle of the night sneak in and steal her red, leather jacket and donate it to the dog shelter for a chew toy."

The dark haired woman smothered a laugh, while trying to glare convincingly at the man beside her.

He grinned at her unrepentantly.

* * *

><p>Henry didn't know what holidays they had in Fairy Tale Land, but regardless of what they were, he had a feeling that were they there this was very much like how they would be. Laughing and teasing, jokes flowing freely, his mom splitting her time between encouraging him and trying to keep him in line. His grandfather teaching him about what happens when pine needles are lit on fire, much to the cursing of his mom and scolding of his grandmother. Having his grandmother teach him how to properly aim and flick cranberries and popcorn kernels; most of the time at his grandfather or mother, followed by the pair chasing them down and a cranberry-popcorn battle occurring. Afterward them all cleaning up the mess with his grandmother running the vacuum to get up the crushed popcorn. Making hot chocolate and his mom offering him a spoonful of whipped cream and then smearing it all over his nose and cheeks. Watching his grandparents making, what his mom disgustedly calls, "gooey" eyes at each other. His grandfather holding his struggling mom still, while Henry and his grandmother attempted to decorate her like a tree. The snapping of the camera by the various people, trying to capture all of the moments and smiles. This was what he's sure holidays are supposed to be like. And when the time comes for Emma to return him to the Evil Queen's house before he's missed it takes everything in him not to beg for her to let him stay; knowing that it would just make things even harder for them all and that his mom had no choice.<p>

They pulled up in front of the Evil Queen's house; he stared up at it, every day it was getting harder and harder to return to the prison.

His mom's hand on his head drew his attention back to her.

She gave him that half-smile that was just like her father's. "I'll see you tomorrow, kid, ok?"

"Ok," he agreed, smiling. He leaned over and hugged his mom tightly; she returned the embrace just as strongly. "See you tomorrow," he told her, not daring to call her anything at the moment, because it was getting harder and harder not to slipup with her and call her "Mom", and somehow he wasn't sure she was quite ready for that. He got out and jogged up to the front door, waving to her over his shoulder.

* * *

><p>John wandered around town; he was shopping for Christmas gifts, unsure of where to go or what to get for the three people who had become so important to him in the short time since he'd woken from the coma. He'd already bought gifts for Sean, Ashley, Alexandra, Archie, Granny, Red and even Louis, his lawyer. This was his first Christmas that he could remember, his first Christmas as John and his first Christmas with the three people who had become family to him. He had no idea what to get for any of them and nothing that he had seen seemed right.<p>

"Hey John!"

He looked behind him to see Sean jogging lightly from where he had just exited a jewelry shop; he stopped and waited for the younger man. "Sean, merry Christmas."

Sean grinned. "Merry Christmas. Out doing some Christmas shopping?"

John blew out a breath. "Yeah, and not having much luck actually."

The younger man frowned. "Not finding what you're looking for?"

"Not exactly. More like I have no idea what to get them and I haven't seen anything yet that seems right."

"Ah," Sean nodded in understanding. "Yeah, I'm having the same problem with my dad."

John shoved his hands into his pockets. "There aren't a lot of choices as far as stores around here," he commented. He looked down at the bag in Sean's hands. "What's that?" He raised an eyebrow at the small bag with the jeweler's emblem.

Sean's eyes lit up and he opened the bag pulling out a small velvet box. "It's an engagement ring for Ashley." He opened the box and showed John the ring. It was a white gold band with a brilliant sapphire in the center and two small diamonds on either side of it. "I've been saving to get her one; I wanted to give it to her for Christmas. What do you think?"

The older man had to grin at his friend's enthusiasm and could not deny that the ring was perfect for his friend's fiancée. "She'll love it." The gem flashed in the sunlight.

_They were resting for a moment during training._

_Thomas reached into his satchel and pulled out a small, velvet bag and showed him the ring inside. The sapphire winked in the sunlight. "I commissioned the dwarves for an engagement ring for Ella. What do you think?" He handed it to him._

_He grinned as he inspected the ring. "She'll love it." He handed the ring back to Thomas, his own wedding band glinting in the sun._

"John?"

He snapped out of whatever that was so see his friend resting a hand on his shoulder and looking at him with concern.

"You ok?"

For a moment things blurred again and the "Thomas" from a moment ago overlapped Sean. John rubbed his eyes. "Yeah." When he opened them again things were as they had always been. Had _they always been that way?_ He tried to ignore that insidious little voice in the corner of his mind. "I'm fine."

"Ok," His friend said, not sounding entirely convinced, but he pulled back. "As far as gifts, have you tried Mr. Gold's?" He gestured to the pawn shop down the street.

The older man looked in the direction indicated; the small shop was the last one in that direction and rather isolated from the rest. "No, I hadn't really noticed it."

His friend shrugged. "Well, his collection is pretty varied; you might be able to find something there."

"Thanks."

"And you're going to Mary and Emma's for Christmas, right?"

"Yeah," he nodded.

Sean grinned. "Great, we're planning on coming for the afternoon at least. We'll see you there!"

"See you then," John returned.

The younger man moved down the sidewalk, stuffing the jeweler's bag into his jacket pocket.

John headed toward the pawn shop; the sign was flipped to "open" so he pushed open the door, glancing around the dim interior. Not seeing anyone he called, "Hello?" No answer.

He began to wander around, looking at the eclectic collection of objects that seemed to have little rhyme or reason. He turned and came face to face with an old, decrepit yard windmill.

Something niggled at the back of his mind, something urging him to reach out his hand to the arms, which he was doing in almost a dreamlike manner.

_NO!_

The thought rang through his head almost painfully; he winced, pulling his hand back to rub the scar on his chin where a spike of pain originated. Where ever that thought came from was screaming at him that he didn't want whatever that windmill had to offer.

"See something you like?"

He spun around at the voice that suddenly manifested itself from behind him. A short man stood behind him on the other side of the counter. Mr. Gold, John assumed.

He looked back at the windmill for a moment. "Not sure yet."

"Are you interested in _that_ old thing?" His tone was a little scornful of the decrepit object. "That's been gathering dust for…forever."

John shook his head turning his back on the windmill and going back to perusing the shop. "No. I don't want that."

He was inspecting an old oil lamp on a counter so he didn't see one corner of the proprietor's lips quirk up.

"Doing some Christmas shopping?" Mr. Gold inquired neutrally.

"Yeah," John said distractedly. There was quite a collection of things in here and in rather quick order he found gifts for both Emma and Henry. Now he was just running into issues with Mary.

He was moving down a counter when he nearly ran into the dangling glass figurines. He turned to look at it and went still.

It was a child's mobile, small unicorns of blue and clear glass hung, gently tinkling against each other. It was so beautiful, delicate; each of the figurines perfectly formed. He reached out and delicately grasped one of the unicorns.

_Snow turned to him, eyes alight with joy. "It's beautiful!" Her fingers brushed against the unicorn figurines, sending them gently swinging above the lovingly crafted crib. Her left hand then drifted down to rest on her belly, where there was a just barely perceptible swell. The green gem on her engagement ring glittered in the sunlight._

_Love, pride and joy gripped him at the sight of his wife, pregnant with _their_ child._

"Charming."

He was dragged from the vision by the voice, though something about that word resounded deeply in him. He blinked rapidly before turning to the proprietor. "I'm sorry?"

"The mobile. Isn't it charming?" Mr. Gold was admiring the object; John looked back at it as well. "Exquisitely designed, masterfully crafted. I could get it down if you like to take a closer look." He turned back to his customer.

John was still looking at the mobile; he reached out and touched one of the figurines again. He wanted to say yes. He wanted to purchase it, but it was not exactly something a man in the middle of a divorce bought. _Mary would love it._ The thought drifted through his head and he was oh-so tempted to buy it for her, but it wasn't something a man bought for the woman he was hoping to court – _did he really just use the word_ _"_court_"?_ – it was the kind of gift a husband gave a wife, probably upon discovering the coming of their first child. The part of him that had cried out against the windmill wanted so badly to pursue the mobile, but it seemed to settle back, quiet and, for the moment, content.

"No," John finally answered the other man. "Not yet," he added a little more quietly.

The man gave him a smile that unsettled him. "Maybe another time then." He gestured to his right side saying, "Perhaps this might interest you?"

John's eyebrows rose, he approached the indicated item; something in him knew it would be perfect.

* * *

><p>I hope that was good! I'm almost done with part 2 and it will be up at the latest by Christmas day! Happy holidays, whatever you celebrate, to all! :D<p> 


	13. Hot Chocolate Christmas Part 2

Thank you everyone for reviewing, faveing and alerting! I hope everybody's holidays are going great! And those of you who celebrate Christmas: Merry Christmas! For those who don't I hope that you are all having a fantastic day! :D A BIG thank you to **Sara Darkotter** for taking time away from her holidays to beta this! It is a _very_ long chapter as you can likely see; I hope that you all like it! :D

* * *

><p><strong>Hot Chocolate Christmas Part 2<strong>

"Exactly how many people have been invited to Christmas tomorrow?" Emma inquired of her roommate while they poured four cups of hot chocolate.

"A few," the other woman answered as she dolloped whipped cream onto each.

The sheriff rolled her eyes, glancing at her deputy who was helping Henry go through some of the Christmas books Mary owned. John just looked down grinning.

"Mary," Emma continued sprinkling cinnamon on the cocoas, "you invited _Leroy_ and _Walter_ from the hospital."

The teacher sighed. "So it's several people; most of them don't have anyone else." She stuck a cinnamon stick in each mug. "Leroy, Walter, Archie, Marco, Granny, Ruby, Sean, Ashley, Alexandra, possibly Sean's father, a couple of friends of mine from work and a few from the hospital, you, John and me."

Emma shot her friend a look. "Dr. Whale isn't one of those you invited is he?"

John looked up at his boss's tone.

Mary grimaced. "No," she stated with finality.

The blond let out a relieved breath.

"I'm not a masochist, Emma," Mary told her chidingly.

"No, but you _can_ be _very_ soft hearted," her roommate told her.

John really wanting to understand what on earth was going on finally asked, "What's all this about Dr. Whale?"

"Emma says he's a tool," Henry told him, nearly causing Emma's cocoa to come out of her nose and Mary to almost drop the two mugs she was carrying over to John and the boy, "whatever _that_ means." He shrugged. "I figure it's bad."

John and Henry took their mugs from Mary and the man and teacher both turned to the sheriff who was coughing into a paper towel.

"Let's _not_ repeat that around the mayor, ok, kid?" Emma instructed him.

The boy shrugged uncaringly. "Sure."

John looked at Emma who directed his attention wordlessly to Mary; the dark haired woman shook her head in a "don't ask" gesture as she sipped her hot chocolate.

Mary settled onto the couch next to John, much to his pleasure, Emma sat down in the other couch with Henry.

"So, kid, which story were you thinking we start with first?"

Henry pulled up one from the large pile on the floor. "_The Cajun Night Before Christmas_."

The three adults looked at each other.

"Umm…" Mary began unsurely, "do either of you know how to do a good Cajun accent? Because that's why I never read this story to my class."

John shook his head. "I don't know, but I doubt it." They both turned to Emma. "What about you," he asked, "did you say you spent some time down in Louisiana?"

"Eh… Yeah, like…a month before I bolted out of there…not big on the swamp. Though Bourbon Street was quite the party," she added, a grin pulling at her lips.

Henry frowned. "What's Bourbon Street?"

John covered a laugh with a cough.

"Nothing you need to know about yet, kid," his mother assured him.

"Not for a good _long_ while yet," Mary added wryly.

"Here," John reached out for the book, which Henry eagerly handed over to him, "I'll give it a try."

Over the next half hour they laughed themselves near silly as they each attempted to read the book.

Emma probably managed the best with John coming in second, though both had the others in stitches. Mary was the worst and the other three nearly fell out of their seats with laughter; she actually began swatting John with the book and scolding them all to stop; all the while laughing just as hard as them.

They finally got to the last page and Mary declared that it was time to bake the cookies. After Henry knocked over the carton of eggs (breaking three), and Emma and John caused a small flour explosion all over the kitchen counters and floor, and the two of them (Mary and Henry had ducked behind the counter in time) the cookies were finally in the oven. Emma had gone into her room to change; John had retrieved a spare set of clothes from the patrol car just outside and was in the bathroom changing while Mary and Henry cleaned up the kitchen a bit, both quite pleased with themselves that they had avoided the other two's fate.

Decorating the cookies ended up being little better in the tidiness department, though no one had to change clothes (Mary and Emma were still finding smears of icing a month later.)

"We're going to be handing him off to the mayor fairly well sugared up," Mary quietly commented to Emma as the boy snagged a fourth cookie, explaining to an amused John the difference between a fairytale and a legend.

The blond snorted. "Good, the kid deserves to have fun and that witch deserves whatever trouble may come of it." The sheriff leaned back against the counter, watching her son interact with the man who, if his fairytale theory was right, was his grandfather. Emma swiped a bit of whipped cream from her cocoa onto her finger and then licked it off. "John's good with kids," she commented to her roommate offhandedly.

Mary knew exactly what her friend was getting at and became quite interested in stirring her own hot chocolate with the cinnamon stick. "Yes he is." A light blush had crept into her cheeks.

Emma took a sip of her drink. "You've always wanted kids, haven't you?" She wasn't even bothering with subtlety anymore, and her eyes were sparkling with humor.

Mary rolled her eyes as she took a sip of her cocoa. "You know I have. And I thought that you were trying to keep us from getting too close?"

Emma shrugged. "His divorce is in the process of being finalized, when he's not working he's trying to spend time with one of us – most of the time you – and he can't take is eyes off of you whenever you're around." She blew on the hot drink. "At this point I think it's fairly safe to say that he is more or less yours." She paused in taking a sip of the cocoa. "And it _is_ Christmas, and this year I'm feeling rather more…in the spirit than I usually do."

The blush staining the teacher's cheeks darkened a bit, but a rather smug smile touched her lips. She liked the sound of that, him being hers. Her eyes went to the man at the kitchen table with the boy.

John looked up at the same moment, his eyes meeting hers; he gave her that half-smile that made her insides quiver, her knees turn to mush and a not-unwelcome heat to stir in her veins.

Emma made a disgusted sound. "You two are unbelievable."

Mary just continued to watch the man at the table, whom she was beginning to think of as "hers", with a growing smile.

* * *

><p>"Damn it, Leroy!" Emma growled, as she shoved the struggling, drunken janitor into one of the cells.<p>

"He started it!" Leroy snarled in the direction of the man in the other cell.

"Oh, right, you hot head –" the other man growled back, as John locked the cell door.

"Shut up, Vince! Both of you need to cool it!" she snapped at them. She and her deputy headed over to their desks.

"It's Christmas Eve," John scowled at the imprisoned pair. "You'd think you both could cut each other some slack."

Shortly after Emma had returned from driving Henry home they had gotten a call about a fight at the bar that they needed to handle. They had managed to pull the two men apart and get them to the jail, but they were not unscathed.

Once they were out of hearing range John asked lowly, "How's the eye?" he gestured to where she'd taken an elbow.

Emma shook her head with annoyance. "It's fine, just a little irritated; it won't even bruise." She then frowned with concern. "How's the shoulder?" She'd noticed how little he was moving it and how stiffly he was holding himself. "Vince slammed you pretty hard."

John didn't want to show how much the still-rehabilitating joint was paining him in front of the two other men. He gritted his teeth. "I'm gonna need some ice, but I don't think any real damage was done."

Emma grimaced; she then reached into her pocket, dug out her keys and handed them to him. "My apartment is just around the corner; head over there. You can get some ice and, uh," she pointed to a few drops of blood on his shirt, "change before dinner."

"What about the paperwork on these two?" he didn't want to leave her with all the work.

Emma shook her head. "Don't worry about it; I'm only going to get the barebones started for these repeats before heading home."

He looked at her, a little unsurely. "Will this be ok with Mary?"

The sheriff shook her head. "She's not there; she'll still be at the hospital dropping off some gifts for the patients."

He nodded, trying to ignore the slight twinge of regret that Mary wasn't home, and accepted the offer. "Thanks."

"No problem."

He pulled a spare shirt from one of the drawers of his desk – even though he hadn't been on the job long he had begun keeping several changes of clothing in his desk, truck and the squad car in case of days like this one.

"See you later," he nodded to his boss, who gave him a wry smirk in return.

It was a short walk to Emma and Mary's apartment. He was surprisingly comfortable going in on his own; it seemed so natural to, gingerly, shrug out of his coat and toss it casually over one of the chairs in the sitting area. With the smell of the ham Mary had left to cook while she was out wafting through the air he could almost see her puttering around the kitchen or curled up on the couch with a book. This apartment was just so permeated with her, it made him feel like she was just around the corner; it was comforting.

He shook off his thoughts, turning his attention back to why he was here in the first place; he decided to take care of his shirt first and headed to the bathroom.

He flicked the light on as he entered and looked up in the mirror, feeling some relief at the fact that the man in the reflection at least was no longer a stranger to him. He rotated his jaw cautiously; he'd gotten swiped in it while wrestling Vince into the squad car. No pain. Now to move on to the hard part.

He tried moving his left arm and bit off several curses at the pain that radiated from his still healing shoulder; it was painful but doable. He fumbled through undoing the buttons on his plaid shirt, but eventually managed. He grunted in pain as he worked the shirt over his injured shoulder, gritting his teeth through it. Once that was accomplished he tossed the shirt to drape over the toilet seat; since this apartment was inhabited by two women the lid was down.

He reached over with his right hand to experimentally massage the offended joint. He let out a groan of pain as he turned and leaned back against the sink, closing his eyes. _Damn that hurt!_

A gasp in front of him had his eyes snapping open to come face to face with Mary standing in the door. He was frozen in place, unsure of what to do, but then he noticed that her eyes weren't looking directly at him but at his shoulder. _The scars._ John looked down at the long, deep marks that bisected his shoulder and the shorter deeper one in his side. He'd been told they'd all been quite deep and it had taken the doctors a while to stitch him up.

He looked back up at Mary, who was still staring at his shoulder with horrified worry. "I'd say they weren't as bad as they looked, but I'm pretty sure that's a lie," he tried to joke.

* * *

><p>Mary had come home to the sound of someone rustling around in the bathroom; she'd gone to investigate, growing concerned when she heard the pained groan. She'd been quite distracted at first at the sight of John shirtless, but when he'd lowered his hand from his shoulder she'd seen the scars. The long lines that crisscrossed his shoulder – no wonder it was giving him trouble! – and another that was in his side that, while shorter than the others, looked <em>much<em> deeper. How that must have hurt –

_Red, so much red… "No," she sobbed. His white shirt stained with his blood, so much blood. She staggered to him, kneeling beside him, taking his face in her hands, whispering "no" over and over; willing it not be so. Her heart, already in tatters from giving up their daughter, was being ripped out of her chest at seeing the man she loved lying so still. "Please, please come back to me…" she begged._

_This wasn't how it was supposed to end…_

"I'd say they weren't as bad as they looked, but I'm pretty sure that's a lie."

The image of John, dressed in a blood stained white tunic and black leather pants and boots, lying on the floor, still as death faded along with her long hair and flowing white dress. But the gut wrenching fear didn't. She could hardly breathe. She didn't know what that all was but it had felt _so real_ and the emotions were so hard to shake. Her hand rose of its own accord, reaching out to touch his chest.

"Mary –" his voice was lost the moment her fingers made contact with his skin.

He was warm, so warm, and so _alive_. The bands around her chest loosened and she could breathe again. Her hand spread on his chest and she felt the beat of his heart strum through her hand, reassuring and real. Her hand skimmed up to his shoulder where the scars were and she traced each one, _they hadn't taken him from her, he was here; he wasn't dead._

Her hand moved down to touch the final scar, but was halted by the firm grasp of John's. His touch snapped her out of whatever had possessed her in that moment; her heart was pounding in her chest. She couldn't believe what she had done, touching so intimately a man whom, while she knew she had strong feelings for him and that they were returned, she had no right to do so. _Where had she gotten such daring? And why had it _felt _so natural to do so, as if she had _every_ right to touch him?_

"Mary." Heat flooded her veins at the desire in his voice. _Oh, Lord._

She knew it was a bad idea, but she lifted her eyes to his. Her breath caught in her chest at the intensity of his stare. "John." Was that her voice? It was so breathy and there was such an ache, a yearning, in it.

He seemed to be trying to fight with himself. _He's trying to do the damned _honorable _thing, _that voice in her mind was such a mixture of amusement and frustration, and honestly she couldn't help but agree with the sentiment behind the emotions. Emma – over protective Emma – had pointed out that afternoon that he was as good as divorced; he no longer was married in any of the ways that really mattered. For once Mary wanted to follow her heart and emotions rather than doing the "right" thing.

She let go of all the reasons to walk away from this, reached her free hand up to his neck, pulling his head down, as she rose up on her toes. Their lips met; she moaned at the contact. They parted their lips and deepened the kiss, seeming to pick right up where they'd left off in the hallway.

John groaned, pulling her flush against him, his hands on her hips; his thumbs slipped under the hem of her shirt to brush against the skin there. She moaned into his mouth, wrapping both her arms around his neck, trying to pull herself even closer to him.

He wrapped his good arm around her waist tighter and lifted her off her feet, turned them both and settled her down on the edge of the sink. He moved between her legs, bringing them into very intimate contact and causing her to gasp.

His lips followed the line of her jaw. "Mary," he whispered into her ear.

"John," she breathed in return, which became another gasp as he pressed his lips to the sensitive skin behind her ear, swirling his tongue over it. Her hands slid into his hair, gently tugging on the strands. She angled her head to bring her own lips into contact with the underside of his jaw, gently nibbling on the skin there; he moaned in appreciation. His hand slipped under her shirt, sliding up her side to tease along the bottom edge of her bra.

The front door slammed shut.

"Hey! Anybody home?"

In that moment, for the first time since Emma moved in, Mary was actually regretting having a roommate.

Mary cleared her throat. "Yeah, hold on!"

John had removed his hand from under her shirt; he now used it to brace against the wall above her head, staring at it over her shoulder.

"Is it wrong that I'm wishing her on the other side of town at the moment?" he asked quietly, frustration thick in his voice.

Mary managed to choke down the laughter that wanted to bubble up. "You're not the only one," she assured him.

Her right hand rose to cup his jaw; she leaned in and pressed a kiss to the scar on the other side of his chin.

His eyes turned to her. "You seem very interested in that scar," he commented, trying to distract them both.

She canted her head to the side, running a finger over it. "Mm." She frowned contemplatively. "I don't know why, but it feels right." She raised an eyebrow at him. "Do you have a problem with that?"

He smirked. "Anything that involves more contact with you, _particularly_ you kissing me, I have _no_ problem with," he assured her.

A light blush stole over her cheeks but she continued to smile at him. "I'd better go out there before she gets suspicious."

He reluctantly stepped away, allowing her to slide off the sink and pass him. "I'll be out there…in a while."

Mary bit her lip, trying to stifle the rather smug smile that wanted to cross her face; she felt bad that he was in such a state, but felt proud that _she_ was the one who had put him in that "state". "All right. Dinner should be ready shortly, and I'll get you an ice pack for that shoulder," she added as she made her way around the corner.

Emma was already sipping a cup of hot chocolate, staring rather fixedly at the counter top.

Mary's eyes narrowed, taking in her friend's stiff form. "I take it you saw us?"

Emma lifted her eyes. "As far as I'm concerned I came through that door about three minutes ago and I did _not_ find my roommate necking with my deputy in the bathroom."

The dark haired woman squeezed her eyes shut in mortification.

"Can't the two of you take it somewhere that I'm _not_ at risk of walking in on you? I'm really not big on voyeurism," the blond told her snarkily. "Though, one thing I will give you."

Mary opened her eyes again warily.

Emma was smirking. "He _is_ quite a fine example of the male species."

Mary dropped her face into her hands with a groan.

The blond continued to grin like the Cheshire cat. "If I wasn't totally _not_ attracted to him I might actually have enjoyed that."

Mary threw a cinnamon stick at her friend, who batted it away, smirking.

John chose that moment to walk in; both women looked at each other and ended up leaning heavily on the island, laughing heartily.

He raised an eyebrow at the pair. "Do I _want_ to know?"

"No," was the resounding, simultaneous answer from the two women.

He eyed them warily. "Right…"

* * *

><p>Their dishes were in the sink, dinner had, naturally, been fantastic. Now they were just sitting around drinking cups of coffee and playing rounds of Hangman; at the moment it was between John and Mary, with the teacher trying to guess.<p>

Her face was screwed up in a confused frown as she studied the letters. "J?"

"Nope," he crossed the letter off the paper and added another part to the hangman before sitting back again, trying to contain his amusement.

Emma was returning to the table from getting another cup; she looked over Mary's shoulder at the puzzle, taking in the few letters that were filled in. She frowned thoughtfully for a moment before she snorted and looked at John with raised eyebrows. "Seriously?"

His eyes were brimming with humor and he tapped his right index finger to his lips, signaling for her to keep silent.

Mary looked up at her roommate, who was shaking her head as she took a drink. "You figured it out?"

"Mm hmm," the sheriff nodded as she sat down, looking like she wanted to burst out laughing.

The dark haired woman frowned deeper, turning back to the puzzle. "I don't know…M?"

He grinned broadly taking the pad from her. "Mm hmm," he confirmed. "Two of 'em." The moment that he filled them in her face broke into an embarrassed grin and she laughed as she buried her face in her hands.

He chuckled, "Get it yet?"

"Yes," she groaned. "And I'm completely mortified…"

Emma was now laughing with them.

"I almost hanged on my own name," Mary looked up at the other two.

"Don't worry I would never have let you hang. I would have added toes, a hat, maybe a horse," he teased her.

Emma scoffed into her mug. "You two aren't going to start, are you?"

"What? 'Verbally copulating'?" John quoted back at her.

She rolled her eyes, glancing at her watch. "Hmm," she quickly downed the rest of her coffee, "I have to go." She stood up and headed toward the door.

The couple glanced at each other before looking back at her.

"Emma, where are you going?" Mary asked, confused.

Emma swiped a book that was lying on the counter and held it up for them to see. "It's Christmas Eve and I've got a kid to read a bedtime story to."

Both of her friends' eyebrows rose exceedingly high on their foreheads.

"I get the feeling the mayor doesn't know you're coming over?" John inquired.

"Nope," the blond woman confirmed.

"Do we _want_ to know how you're going to accomplish this?" Mary asked warily.

"Mm mm," her roommate pressed her lips together and shook her head negatively.

"Are you at least going to leave your badge in the car before committing B&E?" John asked dryly.

"Actually," she told him rather cheerfully as she removed her badge, holding it up for them to see, "I'm going to leave it right here with you guys." She set the item down on the island counter and headed for the door. "Don't wait up for me," she told them as she headed out the door.

Mary closed her eyes and John rubbed the back of his neck, ruefully.

"Are you running through all the ways this could go wrong, like I am?" he looked at the woman beside him.

Her eyelids lifted and her eyes turned to him. "Yes, along with wondering how we're going to bail her out of it if it comes to that."

* * *

><p>Henry lay in bed staring at the wall, he'd been sent to bed a while ago and the Evil Queen would have turned in for the night by this point. But it was Christmas Eve and even though that meant little to the Mayor, it was still a special night for a kid and it was rather difficult for him to sleep.<p>

There was a light tap on his window; he frowned, there weren't any trees close enough to hit his window.

He climbed out of bed and went to the window; his jaw dropped at what he saw and he flew to the window, opening it.

"Emma, what'er you doing here?"

His mom was crouched just outside the window, giving him a half-smile; she climbed into his room once he stepped back. "Well, it's Christmas Eve, and I figured that a kid should get a bedtime story on Christmas Eve."

His eyes went wide. "Really?"

"Really, kid."

His face was alight. "What are you gonna read to me?"

She reached into the back of her waistband and pulled out the book she had borrowed from Mary's pile and showed it to him.

"_The Night Before Christmas_." He grinned up at her.

She shrugged. "I figured, why mess with the classics?"

Henry grabbed her hand and dragged her over to his bed; he climbed under the covers leaving room for her to sit beside him, which she obliged him. He then pushed the book back into her hands and leaned into her side, his head coming to rest on her shoulder; her own arm came up to curve naturally around his shoulders.

Once they were settled she opened the book to the first page. "_T'was the night before Christmas, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse._"

The words of the old poem flowed through the room, wrapping them in a comfort that had been missing from the holiday for the both of them, until now.

"_The children were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads._"

"Emma?"

"Yeah, Henry?"

"What are sugar plums?"

"I've no idea."

"Oh, ok."

"_And_ _Mamma in her 'kerchief_…"

* * *

><p>After Emma left, Mary and John finished their coffee; they then decided to have a cup of cocoa.<p>

Mary moved around the kitchen, heating the milk and pulling out the cocoa and cinnamon. John leaned against the counter of the island, watching her putter around.

_Snow looked at him over her shoulder from the stove, her eyes sparkling with humor and a sassy grin on her face. "Don't worry you're going to like hot chocolate the way I make it."_

John blinked and Mary stood in front of him once again, hair short and skirt knee-length. He rubbed a hand across his eyes. These flashes that he was getting had been happening a lot more frequently lately; it was really disorienting and had him questioning even more the possible validity of Henry's theory.

"John."

He looked up at Mary's concerned voice; she was frowning worriedly.

"Are you ok?"

He smiled at her reassuringly. "I'm fine."

It took a beat, but she nodded and went back to preparing the hot chocolate. She dropped a cinnamon stick into each; she slid his mug across the counter to him.

He reached out and wrapped his hand around the cup, catching her hand in his grasp as well. "Mary…"

Her eyes slowly lifted to meet his, biting her lip. "John."

He took a deep breath, bracing himself. "What happened in the bathroom…"

Mary swallowed thickly. "Do you…" She looked down, worrying her lip nearly raw. "Do you regret…"

"Never," he told her fiercely.

Her eyes snapped back up to him, seeing that his words were earnest in the intensity of his gaze; that soothed her insecurities substantially. She took a deep breath. "What?"

He removed her hand from his cup and took it in both of his, studying her long, delicate fingers. "I want you, Mary."

Her heart skipped a beat at his stark words; her breath catching in her chest.

He twisted the ring on her finger, watching the light play off of the gem. "I want _this_." They both knew what he meant. He brought her arm toward him, and kissed the inside of her wrist; he then pressed the back of her hand to his cheek, closing his eyes. "But…" he opened his eyes again, looking into hers, "I made a promise to myself and to Emma that I wouldn't start anything with you until I had finished things, entirely, with Kathryn."

Her breath was a little unsteady; she attempted to calm it as she came around the island to stand next to him. "According to Emma today…" She swallowed. "She said that you're mine."

His thumb caressed the inside of her wrist. "I am," he confirmed simply; his eyes bore into her. "Are you mine?"

She couldn't look away, caught by his gaze as she nodded. "Yes," she breathed.

He brushed his lips across her knuckles, the look in his eyes causing her heart to squeeze in her chest. "I want us to start right. Nothing that anyone can twist. Nothing to stand between us."

Her breath caught; she bit her lip, looking at him. "Have you ever seen _White Christmas_?"

A corner of his lips curled up. "I don't know."

She grinned at him.

* * *

><p>"<em>He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work…<em>"

Henry's eyes had steadily been lowering throughout the story. The combination of his mom's voice softly rolling over the familiar words and her heartbeat steady and comforting under his ear, lulling him to sleep. He felt so safe, so loved; _this was how home was supposed to feel_, he somehow knew.

Her fingers were gently running through his hair, the feeling further drawing him toward sleep.

"_But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight, 'Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good-night.'_"

"The end," he mumbled sleepily.

Emma looked down at her son, his eyes were closed. "The end," she agreed quietly. She pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "Merry Christmas, Henry."

"Mm… Merry Christmas, Mom," he mumbled back as he drifted into the land of dreams, not feeling his mother go still beside him, or the hitch in her breathing.

Emma was blinking furiously; she swallowed hard, trying to keep the tears at bay. She set the book aside and, rather than immediately leaving, stayed where she was, watching her son sleep. The emotions rushing through her terrified her in their strength; emotions that she didn't recognize but in a strange way made her feel like missing pieces of herself were being put back into place. Part of her wanted to run from this frightening feeling of being bound even more tightly to this child, but a strong protectiveness reared up and roared against hurting her son in such a way and killed the idea before it could even really form.

Emma wasn't sure how long she sat there watching her son sleep but fatigue began to drag at her eyes, so she knew she had to leave; it wouldn't do for their witch of a mayor to catch her. She pressed another kiss to Henry's head as she carefully slipped away; she climbed back out of the window, closing it behind her and carefully climbing back down the house.

The drive back home – it was interesting thinking of somewhere as "home", she'd never thought of any place she'd lived before as "home" – was quiet, the streets empty due to the late hour. As she unlocked her door she wondered what she would be walking into, having left Mary and John alone.

On the TV screen two men dressed in Santa costumes and two women in red dresses lined with white fur sang beside a tall Christmas tree about dreaming of a "white Christmas". Emma, not seeing anyone, moved over to switch the movie off; when she came around the couch she looked down for a moment and raised her eyebrows.

John was lying stretched out on his back on the couch with Mary lying on top of him, wrapped in his arms; both fully clothed – much to her surprise and relief – and fast asleep.

Emma's lips quirked up in one corner and the rather sweet picture they made; she shut off the TV and DVD player. She then picked up a blanket from the back of the other couch and – in a rather uncharacteristically tender gesture – spread it over her two friends. She looked at the couple a moment longer, and then shook her head with a small smile on her lips turning to her room. They had a long day tomorrow and she needed to get _some_ sleep.

* * *

><p>John's became aware of a weight on his chest, a head resting on his right shoulder and an arm draped over his chest; his own arms were wrapped around the small form. His eyes slowly slid open, blinking back the bleariness from sleep. He frowned for a moment at the unfamiliar ceiling and the narrow surface he was lying on, confused as to where he was. Then he remembered that he had come over to Mary and Emma's for dinner; he and Mary had settled down to watch a movie, which became rather fuzzy after a point. His gaze drifted down to see the crown of dark hair nestled under his chin; Mary's eyelashes were two sooty crescents on her cheeks, her face was relaxed, serene in sleep. A sense of absolute rightness settled in him at waking with her in his arms, as if this had happened hundreds of times; as if he was meant to <em>always<em> wake up with her.

Mary took a deep breath, her nose scrunching up as she began to stir; it was an absolutely adorable gesture and he couldn't help pressing a kiss to her nose. Her eyes fluttered open; they widened momentarily at seeing him.

"Morning," he greeted quietly.

She blinked a few more times, seeming to try and sort everything; she looked around, a little disoriented.

"I think we fell asleep watching the movie," he told her.

"Oh." Understanding came over her face. She looked at him for a few moments longer, and then snuggled back into his embrace. "Merry Christmas, John."

He grinned. "Merry Christmas, Mary."

She let out a contented sigh. "Can we just stay here for the rest of the day?"

John laughed softly. "I'd like that, but don't you have guests coming?"

Mary groaned, burying her face in his shoulder. "Yes." She gave a reluctant sigh this time. "I have to get up and start the turkey."

"I think that would probably be a good thing since we don't want everyone to starve," he gently teased.

"All right," she acquiesced; she began to push herself up, but his arms didn't give. She looked down at him frowning. "I can't get up if you don't let me go."

"True, and that's a problem since I have no real desire to do that," humor glinted in his eyes.

Mary raised an eyebrow. "We just covered that I _have_ to get up to get things ready for the guests."

"Hmm," he nodded in mock thought. "Well, I guess I could manage it if…"

She narrowed her eyes. "'If'?"

He brought his head up to hers, their noses touching. "If I have a kiss to hold me over."

A grin pulled at her lips as she rolled her eyes. "I thought that we were going to hold off on that until your divorce was finalized?"

John brought his hand up to cup the back of her head. "It's Christmas," he stated simply, as if that was all the explanation needed.

"Well," Mary began laughingly, "I suppose that we could manage a small one." She allowed the gentle pressure from his hand to pull her lips down to his.

The kiss wasn't the frenzied passion of the day before; this was a slow comfortable one that bespoke more love and affection than lust. When Mary went to reluctantly pull away she found John holding her to him. She was smiling against his lips while she kept trying to pull away, but he wasn't allowing it, playfully not releasing the kiss; she felt his lips curve against her own.

"John," her chastisement was muffled by their lips being still engaged.

John couldn't help teasing her in this way; it felt comfortable, familiar. "What's the matter, Mary?" he asked, their lips still together.

She gave a helpless giggle.

He wanted to hear her laugh; she didn't laugh nearly enough with all the worries and burdens on her shoulders. He didn't know how he knew, but his hands moved to tickle her sides sending her into a fit of full laughter.

"John!" she cried out between laughs.

His own laughter joined hers, loving the sound of her mirth.

A groan and a, "_Really?"_ had them halting and both of their heads popping up to look over the back of the couch.

Emma was blinking at them blearily. "I guess at least this time I'm not walking in on you two making out again." She shuffled over to make coffee, leaving her roommate blushing and her deputy clearing his throat.

John had finally released Mary and she got up, moving around the couch to the kitchen; John followed her.

The teacher began pulling things out of the fridge for the meal later in the day. "So how did things go with Henry last night?"

Emma was staring at the coffee maker. "Good, Madam Mayor never even knew I was there."

"Good to know I'm not going to be arresting my boss," John joked.

The caffeinated beverage had finished dripping and Emma pulled the pot out and poured them each a cup.

The sheriff then lifted her mug and took a sip. "Not today anyway," she muttered. She narrowed her eyes at her two friends. "You're _both_ morning people?"

They looked up at Emma, glanced at each other and then looked back at her, shrugging.

She made a disgusted sound and shuffled back toward her room. "I'm gonna get ready; I get dibs on the shower."

John watched his boss leave, eyebrows raised; he then turned to Mary. "Is she like that every morning?"

The dark haired woman nodded. "Oh, yes." Her lips twitched as she began the food preparations. "I believe the first words from her lips to me, her first morning living here were, 'You're awake. I hate you.'"

John nearly choked on his coffee; he accepted the dishcloth Mary handed him. "How do you two manage?"

"Coffee."

He chuckled at her concise answer.

"Since I'm the first one up normally, I have a pot waiting for her; this usually keeps her fairly satisfied and soothes any ruffled feathers at my being much more alert than her."

He nodded, toasting her with his mug. "Well played."

She reached into the freezer. "Indeed." She pulled out an icepack, wrapped it in a dishtowel and handed it to him. "Sleeping on a couch didn't do your shoulder any favors."

He'd hoped that she hadn't noticed how stiffly he had been moving it, but he should have known that she'd see. "Thank you."

Mary helped him settle the icepack into place. "We'll see about doing some of those exercises that your physical therapist wants you to do a little later; that should help loosen it up a bit."

He grimaced at the thought. "Do I get any say in this?"

"No," she informed him, heading back to cooking.

He shook his head ruefully, taking another drink.

A little while later Emma reemerged, dressed and alert.

"Feel better?" Mary inquired.

Emma rolled her eyes at her roommate's teasing. "I'll feel even better after another cup of coffee." She saucily held up her now empty mug, making a beeline for the pot. "Merry Christmas, by the way."

"Merry Christmas," they both returned.

Mary put the turkey into the oven, setting the timer; she then turned back to Emma, hands on her hips. "Are you going to be releasing Leroy in time to attend the party?"

The sheriff shrugged, blowing on her drink. "I'm more inclined to let him out than Vince; that's for sure. He didn't put up half the fight that Vince did and didn't cause a tenth of the damage."

The teacher canted her head to the side. "Is that a yes?"

Emma pursed her lips thoughtfully for a moment, and then shrugged. "Sure. Why not?"

"Good," the other woman nodded firmly, turning back to the food.

Sheriff and deputy looked at each other in shared amusement.

The blond woman leaned against the island. "How's the shoulder?"

John gave a one-shouldered shrug. "Sore and stiff." He took a sip of his coffee, his lips twitching in amusement. "Mary has informed me that we're going to be doing the exercises that my therapist set on me."

Emma smirked. "Sucks to be you."

He picked up one of the crumpled pieces of paper from their hangman games last night and tossed it at her; she swatted it before it hit her, grinning.

She stood and grabbed her keys. "I'm going to let Leroy out, and _possibly_ Vince."

"Need a hand?" John shifted to stand from his stool.

"Nah," she shook her head, and then smirked. "You need to get ready for those exercises."

He groaned to her laughter echoing as she closed the door behind her.

* * *

><p>A couple of hours later John was groaning in pain from working his shoulder, which was screaming abuse at him. "I think you broke me." His eyes cut in a put-upon pitiful manner to Mary.<p>

She rolled her eyes, humor twinkling in her eyes. "It isn't _that_ bad. And your shoulder is moving a lot better."

He rotated his arm, grimacing at the aching pull of the still-sore muscles, but she was right that much of the stiffness was gone and he had more range of motion. He massaged the joint, trying to ease some of the discomfort.

"Here," Mary set down the spoon she had been using to mix the stuffing, and walked over to him, "let me do that."

John let his hand fall away to be replaced by her smaller ones. For all their delicacy her hands proved to be quite capable in working the knots out of the muscles and rubbing away some of the soreness in the tendons. He let his head fall back, closing his eyes, with an appreciative groan.

A surprisingly familiar impish smile spread across her face. "Well, this is interesting. It's not every day that I have a man turn to putty under my hands."

He let out a chuckle. "That's good to hear; any time that you want to have the experience again I'm quite happy to volunteer."

She gave a breathy laugh.

His eyes opened to look up at her and he reached up to entwine his fingers with those of one of her hands.

Mary felt her breath catch at the look in his eyes; the intensity and emotions there.

"Thank you," he told her intently, stroking his thumb over the back of her hand.

She bit her lip, smiling, and reached her free hand to run through his hair. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. Both of them basked in the moment of tenderness and peace between them.

Keys scraping against the lock had them pulling apart a bit, though Mary left her hand resting on his shoulder with his still tangled with it; they both looked to the door.

Emma stepped through followed closely by a, as usual, gruff, but also rather sheepish looking, Leroy.

Mary smiled at them both. "Leroy I didn't expect you until later."

"Community service," Emma told her sardonically. "He's going to help us prepare for the party."

"How very kind!" Mary smiled at the man brightly. "Thank you Leroy."

The gruff man blushed and looked down. "It's nothing," he mumbled, abashed. "What can I do?"

Mary stepped away from John and led the janitor to a few things that needed to be done before the party.

John and Emma bit back grins at how Mary so easily charmed the usually surly man and had him bending to her every whim.

* * *

><p>About an hour later there was a knock on the door, which was revealed to be Granny and Ruby.<p>

"We decided to come and see if there was any way we could help with the preparations," the older woman stated, though from Ruby's expression it was more Granny's idea than hers. "And I brought my sweet potatoes." She held up the dish she was carrying.

Mary smiled at them warmly, accepting the proffered dish and letting the women inside. "Thank you. I could certainly use some help cooking, it you want."

Granny joined Mary in the kitchen while Ruby wandered over to the sitting area where John, Emma and Leroy were sitting around the coffee table with a deck of cards.

"Whatcha playing?" she settled down on the floor next to Emma.

"Well, we just finished a round of poker," John told her. "What are you up for?"

The young woman smirked. "Anything."

Half an hour later another knock echoed through the room; this time it was Emma's turn to answer the door, she kept her cards with her claiming that the others weren't to be trusted. She opened to door to Marco, Archie and Pongo.

"Hey, guys," she opened to door wider to let them in. "Merry Christmas."

They responded in kind.

"I hope it's all right that we came so early," the therapist said.

"Of course," Mary assured him from her position in the kitchen. She moved over to accept the two bottles of wine from the two men.

"Thank you very much, Mary Margaret and Emma for the invitation," Marco said gratefully. "Since my wife passed the holidays haven't been the same."

Mary reached out to clasp the hand of the older man. "We're glad to have you all."

"No we're not," Emma countered.

Mary swatted her roommate who smirked in return.

The blond woman turned to the two men. "Do you guys want something to drink?" She headed into the kitchen to gather their requests; Mary shooed the pair toward the sitting area to join the others. The dark haired woman leveled a threatening spoon in Emma's direction, warning her to get the drinks and skedaddle out of the kitchen, to which her roommate responded, "Why would I want to stay?" She dodged a dish towel snapped in her direction.

People trickled in throughout the day; soon the apartment was filled with people laughing, chatting, and milling about, occasionally broken by a call of "B.S." from the card game still going on.

Just a little before lunch Sean, Ashley and Sean's dad showed up at the door, Alexandra in tow.

"Mary!" Ashley exclaimed, an impossibly wide smiled on her face. "Look!" She held out her hand for the teacher to see. "Sean got me an engagement ring!"

Mary gasped, "Oh, Ashley! It's beautiful!" She reached out to take the younger woman's hand to look closer at the shimmering ring.

"_Isn't it wonderful!" Ella was glowing._

_She smiled widely at her friend. "It's perfect," she agreed. The emerald on her own engagement ring flashed in the firelight._

"Mary?"

The dark haired woman blinked several times to see the younger woman looking at her with concern.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm – I'm fine." She quickly smiled at her brightly, looking back down at the jewel. "It's perfect."

Ashley was once again buoyant; she looked at her fiancée over her shoulder. "Yes."

Mary grinned at Sean. "I believe that can be translated as you did well in choosing the ring," she teased him.

The young man grinned broadly, cradling his daughter against his chest in one arm, with his other around Ashley.

Emma strode over to them.

"Emma, look!" Ashley held her hand out for the sheriff to see.

The older woman eyed the ring with raised eyebrows. "Nice rock."

There were sounds of choked laughter.

Mary rolled her eyes skyward. "You're such a romantic, Emma."

Her roommate smirked back at her; she then turned back to the young couple. "Congrats you two. Now, can I get you some eggnog?"

* * *

><p>Emma was standing off to the side, watching everyone; she'd never experienced something like this party before. And somehow she got the feeling that none of them had either. Laughter and joy resounded in the room. Hope, something that seemed so lacking in the town, flowed in the room.<p>

"What're you thinking?"

She turned at the resonant tones next to her; she gave John a half-shrug. "Just thinking that I don't think I have seen these people this happy in the whole time I've been here."

He looked around the room, seeing the smiles; maybe some of them weren't as bright as others, but Emma had a point. "I think you're right." He glanced at her.

She shook her head, a little wonderingly. "With all of the lonely people in this town; it's almost like…" she trailed off, scrunching her face up and closing her eyes.

He smirked. "A curse?" John offered.

She rubbed her forehead, still wincing. "I think I've been spending too much time with Henry."

John shrugged. "I don't know. You're right about the fact that there really are a lot of people in this town who don't have anyone and who are lacking real hope."

They looked back at the gathering.

"Well, for today at least," he continued, "they have some hope and others to celebrate with."

"Ok, everybody!" Mary called, drawing everyone's attention. "Dinner is ready!"

They began to line up, waiting their turn for dinner. Emma and John remained off to the side, waiting for everyone else to go.

Everyone scattered about the apartment, sitting on the couches, kitchen table chairs, stairs and floor.

Emma and John finally wove through the kitchen along with Mary, dishing food onto their plates. Emma hopped up to sit on the counter; she patted the spot next to her for Mary, who looked at her dubiously. The sheriff rolled her eyes. "Come on, Mary, cut loose a little."

The dark haired woman pressed her lips together for a moment and then seemed to make a decision and pushed herself up to sit next to her roommate. John leaned against the counter beside them.

"Excuse me," they could just hear Archie over the din. "Excuse me!" he called a little louder.

The conversations tapered off and heads turned to the therapist who stood, glass in hand. "I'd like to propose a toast."

There were a few mock groans, but everyone took their glasses in hand.

"To Mary and Emma," he turned to the two women who both looked quite uncomfortable at being put on the spot, "for hosting us for this day and making this a better Christmas than many of us thought we would have."

There were several "here, here"s.

"Thank you both. And merry Christmas," Archie finished.

The group toasted the pair and echoed the holiday sentiment.

Both women were most definitely uncomfortable, but Mary smiled and managed a small wave, which Emma did as well, after her roommate elbowed her.

The rest of the night passed with little incidence – there was one moment when one of the hospital orderlies, who'd had one too many, got up on the coffee table and threatened a strip tease, but the disaster was averted (no one wanted to see him naked). People began to trickle out at about eight o'clock with Ashley, Sean and his father being among the first since they needed to get Alexandra in bed; by ten the only people remaining apart from Emma, Mary and John were Granny, Ruby, Archie, Marco and Leroy. Granny and Archie were helping Mary clean up the kitchen while the rest gave Emma and John a hand straightening up the rest of the apartment a bit.

Finally Marco and Archie made their way out, bidding them a cheerful farewell. Granny and Ruby followed soon after wishing them a merry Christmas. Emma then offered Leroy a ride home since the man's car was still parked at the bar and he probably shouldn't be driving anyway.

John helped Mary covering the leftovers and putting them into the fridge. Music was still playing over the stereo. He watched as she stored away the last dish; he then reached over and turned the music up a bit and extended his hand to her.

Mary looked at him. "John…"

"Please, Mary," he countered softly. "Let me hold you for a while."

She bit her lip but went to him quite willingly. She raised her arms into position for the waltz but found herself brought flush to him, his arm wrapped around her waist, holding her there. She stiffened in surprise but immediately relaxed and allowed her own arm to wrap around his shoulders; pressing her face into the curve where his neck met his shoulder. He brought their joined hands to rest against his chest, directly over his heart, and leaned his cheek against her temple. They danced no fancy steps or moves, he didn't spin her; they just slowly rotated around the floor to the quiet, romantic song.

It hadn't taken Emma long to drop Leroy off; as she approached the door to her apartment she could hear the strains of music from inside and something made her cautious. She opened the door slowly and quietly. She stilled at the sight inside. She watched her two friends dancing in the dim lighting of the apartment. Something caught in her chest as she looked at them; no one could accuse Emma of being a romantic but in this moment she could all too easily see the pair decades from now, their hair grey and them shuffling along to music.

John noticed Emma over Mary's head. She gave him a small smile and an approving nod before turning and, quietly as possible, making her way to her room.

Mary leaned into John, everything in her sighing contentedly at the utter rightness of this moment. In John's arms she felt so treasured, adored; she felt like the center of his world.

After Emma headed off to bed, John let his eyes fall shut, reveling in the peace and contentment he found in Mary's arms. The trust and love that Mary placed in him humbled him; nearly brought him to his knees at times.

The song drew to a close; John reluctantly pulled away, but retained hold of her hand. His eyes connected with hers; not looking away he lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss in the center of her palm. Mary's heart stuttered. He closed her fingers over the spot and turned her hand over to kiss each knuckle before finally lowering her hand again.

"Merry Christmas, Mary," he said quietly.

"Merry Christmas, John," she returned, a little breathless.

He slowly pulled away, only releasing her hand once the reach of their arms had been exceeded. He went to the door, taking his coat from the hook and walking out with one last longing glance at her.

This had been without a doubt the best Christmas all of them had ever had.

* * *

><p>The song I imagine playing for Mary and John dancing is <em>After Afterall <em>by William Fitzsimmons. Thank you so much everyone for reading! I will be posting a chapter with the "Charmings" celebrating their Christmas together, but with how long this chapter was getting I wanted to break it up a bit and I thought it would be better anyway because after that chapter I won't post on this story again until after the next episode, because I need to know the outcome of that before continuing. I hope that you all liked it! Please let me know what you think! And Happy Holidays to all!


	14. Hot Chocolate Christmas Encore: Shards

Happy New Year, everybody! Thank you so much for the reviews, faves and alerts! :D I hope that all of your holidays have gone great! After this chapter I won't be writing for **Hot Chocolate** until after next week's episode airs. Oh, and if anyone is interested I have made a banner for this story and my other one; the links are on my profile.

Thank you to **Sara Darkotter** for beta-ing this chapter!

* * *

><p><strong>Hot Chocolate Christmas Encore: Shards<strong>

John and Emma hoisted Mary's gift into the bed of his truck.

"Thanks for keeping this for me." His boss tossed him a grateful grin. "Mary would have found it at the station or apartment."

"I was happy to," he assured her, moving around the side of the truck.

To come face to face with his soon-to-be ex-wife.

"Hello, David," she said quietly.

"Kathryn…" His eyes snapped to Emma who was looking back and forth between them, leery.

"Uhh…" the sheriff began, "I'm gonna…go get a coffee to-go from Granny's. Can I get you one?"

"Yeah, thanks," John confirmed.

Emma hurried off, not at all interested in getting in the middle.

"So," John turned back to Kathryn, "how was your Christmas?"

She hugged her arms tighter to her chest. "Good, Regina invited me over."

"That's…good," he didn't like or trust the mayor but he knew that the overbearing woman had been a good friend to Kathryn.

"What about you?" she asked.

"It was really good." The corners of his lips curled up at the memory of the day before. He nodded in the direction Emma had gone. "I went to a gathering at Emma and Mary's place."

"So…you weren't alone?" Her expression and tone seemed to be a strange mix of relief and disappointment. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised.

"No," he shook his head. His fingers tapped a soft beat on the driver's side door; his eyes cut to Granny's hoping to see Emma so that he could have an excuse to break from this awkward meeting.

"I was wondering…"

He turned at her soft voice; she was looking down.

"Perhaps we could get together for lunch? If you're not doing anything." Kathryn looked up at him hopefully.

John frowned. "Kathryn…I don't think –"

"Or coffee?" she added, a little desperately.

He closed his eyes. "Why are you doing this, Kathryn?"

She bit her lip. "I – I miss you, David," she said, her voice somewhat pleading.

"You agreed to the divorce," he reminded her, "it's being finalized."

"I know," she said breathlessly, stepping closer to him. He took a step back. "But I don't want that! Please, David, I want to try and fix this. Fix us. I want us to –"

"Kathryn, stop," he said firmly, cutting her off; holding a hand up.

She shifted back, biting her lip, tears pooling in her eyes.

John drew in a deep breath. "Kathryn… It's been months, and I haven't remembered _anything_." A tear slid down her cheek, but he forced himself to continue; he couldn't allow her to continue to cling to hope, when there was none. "I don't know who David was, but he's gone. I'm sorry, but I'm _not_ him." She gave a little sob. He continued in a softer, compassionate voice. "You need to stop looking for him in me. Mourn him, and move on with your life." He turned to his truck to open the door.

"Like you have, _John_?"

He went still and then looked at her over his shoulder.

She gave him a tight smile. "I've been hearing people referring to you by that name." Pain tightened her features. "Was our life so horrible that you didn't even want to keep your own name?"

His hands tightened on the doorframe. "No." He turned back to her. "It had nothing to do with you or what life you had with David. But I'm not him and his name doesn't feel right for me," he explained. "I never wanted to hurt you, Kathryn, but continuing to lie to you and pretending that everything was all right would have been worse." He shook his head. "I won't lie to you and say that I'm not moving on; I am, but I don't have years of memories to hold on to. I know that you're going to have a harder time of it than me, and that's the reason why we shouldn't really be around each other for a while, because I don't want you to continue to cling to the possibility that David may come back, because he isn't. I'm sorry."

She gave another sob and then ran off down the street.

John hung his head, on hand gripping the driver's side door. "So, am I a totally horrible human being?" he inquired quietly. He looked up at Emma, who appeared from the other side of the building, where she'd been lurking, waiting for him and Kathryn to finish talking.

"Nah," she shook her head, "it had to be done." She handed him his coffee. "I think all the more of you for making things so clear for her and making sure not to string her along."

He gave her a cheerless half-smile. "Thanks."

She cleared her throat, moving to the other side of the truck and pulling the passenger door open. "Now, let's get going; Henry's probably already there."

* * *

><p>As they opened the door to the apartment they heard the pounding of small feet coming toward them. Henry burst into sight; grinning as bright as the sun upon seeing them. "Mary they're here!" he yelled.<p>

"No need to yell, Henry," his teacher gently chided as she stepped around from the kitchen. She gave John and Emma a warm smile. "The cocoa's ready, Henry and I will grab them; you two head over to the tree with all of…" she gestured with her finger at the load of presents they were carrying, "this."

Emma carefully lugged her gift to Mary, while John balanced the boxes of his own gifts to them, over to the Christmas tree where a few others were already sitting. Henry scurried back to the kitchen, grabbing two mugs off of the counter.

Mary turned to go back to the kitchen but stopped. "Henry, you left your backpack on the floor," she called to him, bending and picking the item up.

The boy poked his head around the corner, an apologetic look on his face. "Sorry, Mary."

She gave an affectionate, exasperated sigh, tilting her head in the direction of the couches. "Bring the cocoa over; I'll take care of this."

"Ok!" he chirped, dashing off to do what she told him to.

Mary lifted the bag to hang it on a hook by the door when a flash from the open from pocket caught her eyes. She frowned, opening the pocket farther. "Henry, why do you have a shard of glass in your bag?"

He poked his head back around. "Huh?" but his face cleared almost instantly, remembering. "Oh, yeah! I found that in the mine."

Emma glanced at her son with raised eyebrows. "Why'd you keep it?"

He shrugged, carefully lifted two mugs from the counter and slowly made his way over to the couches. "I thought it might be important."

Emma rolled her eyes fondly, John chuckled and Mary shook her head, reaching into the back pack; her fingers closed around the shard.

_She couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe! It was too enclosed in here… There was no room. No air to breathe. She couldn't move. Where was he? He promised to always find her… Where _was_ he?_

John's head shot up at the soft _plop_ of the backpack hitting the floor from Mary's suddenly nerveless grasp. "Mary?" he was on his feet in an instant and at her side only a heartbeat later. "What is it?" He settled a hand on her shoulder, cupping the hand that held the shard in his other.

Her heart was still beating far too fast at the fear and panic residual from the flash she'd just had. Mary shook her head, working to clear whatever that was; she brought her free hand up to her forehead. "I – N-nothing…" She swallowed thickly, trying to slow her pulse. "I'm fine. I don't know what that was…"

John slid his hand from her shoulder to cradle her cheek. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yes," she assured him.

He let his hand drift from her cheek to cup the back of her neck; he gently took the shard from her with his other hand. He finally looked away from her to examine the piece of glass; he held it up, the winter sun flashed off of the surface.

_Nononononononono… This wasn't supposed to happen! She was supposed to roll her eyes and call him "Charming" for the rest of their lives. He was supposed to find her every day of their lives._

"John…" Mary's hand interlaced with his on her shoulder.

He squeezed his eyes shut, turning his head to the side, trying to breathe through the overwhelming panic and grief from the flash. He shook his head, trying to clear it. "I'm fine," he assured her, opening his eyes; he gave her a tight smile.

"You guys ok?" Emma looked at them with some worry.

"Fine," they repeated together.

She raised an eyebrow, but nodded. "Ok…" She grabbed the other two cocoas and headed back to the couches. "Come on, before Henry decides to not wait for us to open gifts."

The couple glanced at each other, and then the glass again; it glistened innocently in the light.

Mary hesitantly took it from him; when nothing happened she gave him a smile. "Go on; I'll be there in a moment."

His thumb stroked the skin just behind her ear. "You sure?"

She smiled at him, reaching her free hand up to wrap around his wrist; she turned her head and ghosted her lips over the inside of his wrist. "Yes." A teasing smile pulled at her lips and her eyes met his with a daring that was appearing with increasing frequency; it was strangely familiar to him and every time he saw it his heart leapt with a joy that he didn't understand.

He knew that the grin he was giving her revealed how much her look had piqued his "interest".

Her eyes glittered with humor and she gently pushed him in the direction of her roommate and student. "Go."

"You sure? I could –"

She gave a partially stifled giggle. "I'm sure you could, now go on!"

He chuckled and allowed himself to be relegated to the couches with the other two.

Mary, meanwhile, picked up the backpack and hung it up; she dropped the glass shard into a change bowl on the counter. She then went to join them by the Christmas tree.

"Now, Henry," Mary began as she sat down beside John, "why don't you distribute the presents."

"Sure," Henry hopped up from where he was sitting beside Emma and hurried over to the tree.

The three adults watched the child running back and forth between each of them and the tree with indulgent smiles.

He stopped next to the last and largest "package"; it was wrapped in a green cloth, tied at the top with a red ribbon. He checked the tag and turned to his teacher. "It's for you, Mary."

"Really?" she tilted her head to the side, glancing around the room as she stood to move next to the gift. "Who's it from?"

"Me," Emma volunteered, looking down.

Mary smiled at her brightly. "Thank you, Emma."

The sheriff shifted a little uncomfortably. "You haven't even opened it yet."

The dark haired woman shook her head. "Don't you want to open one first, Henry?"

He shook his head. "I want to see what Emma got you."

She glanced at the other two who gestured her to go ahead. She sighed and turned back to the gift with a smile. "Ok." She untied the bow and brushed the cloth off; she gave a soft gasp at what was revealed. "Oh, Emma…" It was an old bedside table that was in a bit of disrepair, but obviously a lovely piece.

"It's not much; I know how much you like restoring old furniture and I thought you might like it," Emma rubbed a finger nervously over the handle of her mug.

Mary looked at her roommate with a bright smile. "I _love_ it."

The blond woman let out a relieved sigh. "I'm glad."

"Thank you," her friend said.

"You're welcome," Emma grinned.

"Now," Mary moved over to the couch again, "Henry, you next."

"Ok." He headed over to his small collection of packages and picked up one. "It's from John." He sat down and began tearing the wrapping paper off. "Oh, cool!" He set the chess set box on the floor before opening it to reveal the detailed pieces that were carefully painted. "My own chess set!" He hopped up and ran over to hug John. "Thank you!" The child wrapped his arms around his neck; John's heart squeezed at the sensation. For some reason there was an ache, as if he'd been waiting two lifetimes for tiny arms to embrace him.

The man chuckled. "You're welcome, Henry. Now you can practice at home."

Henry reached over, pulling a package out of John's pile and extending it to the man. "Open my gift, John!"

He grinned, accepting the present. "All right." He carefully tore away the paper. "Henry… Thanks." He grinned as he lifted the object for the others to see; it was wooden desk plaque that read: Deputy Sheriff John. Holding it up John caught sight of the back and he tossed his head back with a laugh; at their confused glances he turned it around for them to see. "A.K.A. Prince Charming" was carved in the back.

Emma groaned, rolling her eyes; Mary shook her head with amusement.

Henry grinned at them all broadly. "Marco helped me carve it."

John leaned down and gathered the boy into a hug. "It's awesome, Henry, thank you."

The boy hugged him back enthusiastically. "You're welcome."

They pulled apart they all turned to Emma.

"You're turn," her deputy informed her.

She rolled her eyes. "All right." She picked up one wrapped in paper bag that had been drawn on, like John's.

"That's from me!" Henry informed her proudly.

"Really?" she grinned as she carefully unwrapped the thin gift; she went stock still.

"Do you like it?" he asked anxiously.

She lifted the revealed gift to look at it properly. It was a picture frame with spaces for photos each year of school; Henry at different ages grinned up at her. She swallowed hard. "It's wonderful, kid." She extended an arm to him; he instantly accepted the invitation and hugged her tightly. "Thank you."

"Mary helped me," he told her.

Emma gave her roommate a shaky smile. "Thanks," her tone conveyed the depth of her appreciation to her friend.

Mary gently squeezed the blond woman's arm. "You're welcome."

The sheriff cleared her throat and looked away from them all uncomfortably. "Who's next?"

"Henry, you can go ahead," Mary told him, standing up. "I have to get the cinnamon rolls out of the oven."

"'Kay," the boy said.

"Need any help?" John enquired.

"Nope," she cheerfully told him, gesturing for him to stay-put.

Henry picked the next one.

"That's from me," Mary called from the kitchen.

He ripped the paper away and cheered upon seeing the present. "_The Chronicles of Narnia_! I've wanted to read these." He got up and dashed to the kitchen to hug his teacher around the middle. "Thank you, Mary."

She wrapped her arms around him in return. "You're welcome, Henry. Though, you might need to keep them here; the mayor might not want you to read them."

He nodded his head vigorously. "Ok." He then hurried back to the tree. "Your turn, John."

"All right…" he chose the smaller, boxier of the two remaining gifts; glancing at the tag. "From Emma." He smirked at his boss, who gave the look back to him. He unwrapped the gift and found himself half-laughing and half-groaning at the "My First Christmas" ornament.

Emma shrugged. "It _is_ technically your first Christmas that you can remember," she pointed out with a grin.

"Thanks, Emma," he chuckled.

She nodded to him. "You're welcome."

Mary came back over with a plate full of still-steaming cinnamon rolls and set them down on the coffee table, where it was promptly "attacked" by the other three. Once they had all settled back, each with a roll, Henry grasped one of Mary's gifts and handed it to her.

"You're turn," he told her excitedly. "It's from me."

She smiled at her student sweetly as she removed the wrapping paper with care. "Oh, Henry…" she laughed, lifting up a handmade and painted birdhouse and feeder.

He hopped up on the couch next to her. "Marco helped me build it and pick paints that won't wear off."

She traced a painted-on sun before turning to the boy and giving him a tight hug. "It's lovely, Henry. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Once they released the hug he turned to his mother, scooping up the smaller of her two remaining gifts. "Your turn, Emma."

The blond woman took the gift with a half-smile; she glanced at the tag. "From John." She gave him a joking wary look as she began ripping the paper.

He chuckled, taking a sip of his cocoa.

Her jaw fell slightly at the item inside the box; she lifted it delicately out. "John…" It was a glass sun catcher, multi-colored stars hung down, sparkling in the light and painting colors on the floor.

He shrugged a little nervously. "I thought you might like it."

She cleared her throat. "Yeah…It-it's pretty nice."

A half-grin quirked at his lips; knowing that that meant she loved it.

She looked away from the object. "Thanks."

"You're welcome, Emma."

She cleared her throat again. "Uh, kid, I think it's your turn again."

Henry picked up his last gift; he looked up at his mother. "From you?"

She nodded, trying not to let on how nervous she was.

He tore enthusiastically at the paper and box. "Cool!" he cried, lifting out a pair of walkie-talkies.

"I thought they might be useful for Operation Cobra," she told him, relief evident in her voice.

John glanced at Mary mouthing, "Operation Cobra?"

She shook her head with amusement, shrugging.

Henry glanced back in the box and was soon setting the radios aside to reach inside again and pull out a framed picture. He stared at his for several moments before looking back up at Emma. "Is this me with you?"

Emma was biting her lip, an uncharacteristic gesture, showing just how anxious she was about this part of the gift. She nodded, "Yeah." She rubbed her finger along the mug's handle again. "A nurse took it after you were born and before…" she let her words trail off. "I have a copy; I thought you might like one as well."

He was still staring down at the photo; the next moment he was on his feet and throwing himself into his mother's arms. "It's the best. Thank you."

She held him just as tightly in return. "You're welcome, kid."

Once they pulled away, Emma brushed a lock of hair back from her face, trying to hide how affected she was by everything. "So, who's next?"

"John," Henry informed her promptly.

"Right," the man said, setting down his mug and reaching for his final gift, from Mary, he cast her a grin as he tore the paper from it. He turned the book in his hands before opening the cover.

"It's a photo album and scrapbook," Mary explained, she twisted her hands together.

He gazed at the images on the pages, mostly candid shots: him playing chess with Sean or them teaching Henry to play, sitting around with his friends at Granny's, holding Alexandra, Mary and Henry dancing, John dancing with Mary, one of him and Emma leaning back against the patrol car talking over to-go cups, shots from when they decorated for Christmas, Christmas Eve and Day, so many moments, memories… He had known that he was building a new life with new memories, but he hadn't really realized just how many memories he had already made until this moment. He swallowed hard and then looked up at the nervous woman. "Thank you, Mary, I love it."

Relief spread across her face and she leaned forward now eager. "I started the first few pages, but there are more for you to use and you can add pages."

He grinned at her, catching her hand and lifting it to his lips. "It's perfect."

She smiled warmly at him, pink touching her cheeks. "You're welcome."

"Stop rolling your eyes as us, Emma," John told his boss, not looking away from the dark haired woman.

Contrary to what he just told her, Emma rolled her eyes. "As I told Mary, I'm not particularly fond of voyeurism," she told him sarcastically.

He cast her a look, as he allowed Mary's hand to drop. "How was that indecent?"

The sheriff gave him a droll look, tossing balled up wrapping paper at him. "You two just have to look at each other for it to be indecent."

Color flooded Mary's cheeks while John threw the paper ball back at her.

"So," Mary tried to redirect everyone's attention, "whose turn is it?"

"Yours," Henry answered her.

"Right," she picked up her last gift, "from John."

Emma gave a mock groan which incited John to throw another ball of wrapping paper at her.

Mary attempted to ignore them all, nimbly unwrapping the gift. She gasped. "Oh!" She skimmed her fingertips over the lid of the music box, tracing the snowflakes frosted into the glass. "It's so beautiful," she whispered, lifting the lid. A softly tinkling song flowed out; it was a soft, hauntingly beautiful melody that seemed in turns so desperately sad and so full of hope. She tilted her head thoughtfully. "The song…it's familiar, but I don't know what it is." She looked at him inquiringly.

He shrugged. "I also recognized it, but I have no idea what it is. I bought it from Mr. Gold; he said that he couldn't tell me the name."

Mary leaned over; she placed her hand on his chin, tilting his head slightly so she could press a kiss to the scar on his jaw. "Thank you."

He grinned at her, the amusement in his eyes matching hers as she pulled away; both remembering their comments about that particular scar.

She settled back onto the couch and looked to her roommate. "Last present, Emma," nervousness returned to her expression.

"Right." Emma picked up the last package, from Mary. She unwrapped and opened the box; she went still before lifting out the scarlet colored comforter inside. "Mary…" she breathed, tracing tiny white stars that were carefully embroidered into the visible corner. She looked up at her roommate. "Did you make this?"

Mary nodded, biting her lip. "Do you like it?"

The blond woman's fingers gently stroked the soft material; she swallowed. "Yeah. Thanks."

The teacher smiled. "You're welcome."

John, deciding to break the mood before Emma became uncomfortable, lifted his mug. "A toast," he said with mock bravado. The others laughed but lifted their mugs as well. "To a great first Christmas."

"Cheers!"

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><p>The song that the music box plays is the theme song for OUaT. I hope that you all liked it! Thankfully in a week OUaT will be BAAAAAAAAACK! :D I'm super excited for the new episode, learning Rumple's backstory and finding out who the new sheriff is going to be! Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think of the chapter!<p> 


	15. Fighting Battles

Thank you, everyone who reviewed, faved and alerted! :D I'm glad that you all enjoyed the "Charmings" family time. Many of you asked for more Mary-John sexual tension, but we don't really have much of that here, sorry. There _will_ be in either the next chapter or the following one, depending on what happens during tonight's episode. I hope that you still enjoy this chapter!

Big thank you to **Happy Endings for All** for beta-ing this chapter! :)

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><p><strong>Fighting Battles<strong>

John strode into the sheriff's department, two coffees in a tray in one hand and a bag with a donut for him and a bear claw for his boss in the other. He strolled into Emma's new office. "Got a celebratory treat for your first day as the official sheriff…" he trailed off, noticing Emma's pale face. He set the coffees and bag down on her desk, leaning over the surface to grasp her arm. "Emma, what's wrong?"

She lifted her eyes to his. It took a few moments, but she swallowed and began, "It was all part of his plan."

John frowned, sitting down in the seat across the desk. "Whose plan?"

Emma blinked a few times, regaining some of her bearings that had been so thrown by Gold. She hadn't meant to say that out loud, didn't want anyone else to have to bear the burden of her troubles, but as she looked at the man she had chosen for her deputy she realized that this was one person she probably _should_ tell, and whom she _knew_ she could trust. She rubbed a hand over her forehead, taking a deep breath. "Mr. Gold was just here; he told me that he'd always intended for me to publicly defy him, saying that it gave me an 'even greater quality' than just going up against Regina because people fear him even more. He did it to make sure I would be elected."

John was dead still for several moments. He wanted to refute what she said; wanted to tell her that no one had that good of foresight, but something in him stopped him. There was something in the back of his mind and soul that whispered Mr. Gold was _entirely_ capable of predicting things that well. That same part had been telling him from the first moment he met the pawnbroker that he was a dangerous man. He breathed deeply. "Did he say why he wanted you to be sheriff so badly?"

She hesitated, looking down at her hand, which was clutching the sheriff's badge.

"Emma…what is it?"

She stroked her thumb over the star. "In order for Ashley to keep Alexandra I had to make a deal with Gold."

Ice settled in his gut. "What kind of deal?"

She shook her head. "He hasn't specified, yet. He only said that I would owe him a favor."

John leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, clasping his hands together and pressing them against his lips contemplatively. They both knew this was not a good situation in any way, shape or form, having the sheriff indebted to the man who basically owned the town and brokered in deals that were on the darker of the shady-side.

The sheriff pressed her fingertips to her eyes. "What am I going to do?"

He pulled his hands away from his mouth and rested them on the desktop. "For starters _we_ can't really do anything at this point."

She raised an eyebrow at his insistence of the plural.

He ignored her reaction and continued, "I say that for now, we wait." He unlaced his fingers and crossed his arms on the surface. "Until we have some idea of what he's going to want, there's not much we can do."

Emma smirked ruefully. "True." She sighed, looking toward the coatrack; he followed her gaze to find Graham's jacket hanging there. "Gold," she said by way of explanation of his unasked question.

He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Why?"

She shrugged. "He didn't say really. Maybe he was trying to soften me up a bit before dropping that bomb."

John looked back at the coat, his mouth set in a grim line.

* * *

><p>During his lunch break John decided to stop by Mr. Gold's shop; he didn't know what David Nolan had been like, but John preferred to face problems head-on.<p>

He stepped through the door of the pawn shop for the second time in his life, that he could remember. "Mr. Gold?" he called out when he didn't immediately see anyone.

The shorter man appeared through the curtains to the back room. "Deputy." He moved behind the counter. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" It was clear from his tone that he knew _exactly_ why John was there.

John placed his hand flat on the countertop, but didn't lean into them, keeping his posture rigid but neutral. "The sheriff told me about your visit this morning…and about the debt she owes you."

"Ah." The man leaned on his cane.

The deputy looked at him piercingly. "Why are you dangling this over her head?"

Gold shrugged. "I'm not 'dangling' it, deputy." His lips twitched the slightest amount. "I just haven't yet needed to call in that favor."

John narrowed his eyes; the man wasn't being entirely truthful. He was choosing his wording carefully, which in John's book was just as bad as lying and ten times as dangerous. "What game are you playing, Mr. Gold?"

"Whatever do you mean?" The man didn't even blink.

Oh, he knew _exactly_ what John meant, but the deputy wasn't going to get anywhere with him. He leaned forward slightly. "Emma's a good person, friend and mother. She's working hard to make things better around here. If you hurt her, I will kill you."

The shopkeeper raised his eyebrows, a hint of surprise and respect entering his eyes.

John turned and headed for the door.

"You're very protective of our new sheriff." The deputy half-turned back to the other man, who was eyeing him thoughtfully. "Though, would she appreciate your coming here though and getting involved in her affairs, I wonder?"

"Emma's had to stand on her own for far too long," John told him. "Whether she likes it or not, she's got people who aren't going to let that happen anymore."

"So, you have our sheriff's back," it wasn't a question.

The younger man's gaze never wavered from the other man's. "Always."

"What a…_charming_ sentiment."

John's eyes narrowed at the meaningful emphasis Gold put on the word "charming", it was the second time he used it in as many meetings. John wondered if it was possible that the other man knew of Henry's fairy tale theory. He turned the rest of the way to face the shopkeeper properly.

The older man gave him a small smile. "Good day, Deputy." He disappeared into his back room.

It took several moments before John was able to turn back to the door, greatly unsettled by the man and their interaction.

As he stepped out the door he made a mental note to ask Henry who he thought Mr. Gold was.

* * *

><p>John walked through the nearly empty elementary school's hallways, nodding greetings to the few teachers he saw; a few of them stopped him and asked that he pass on their congratulations to Emma.<p>

When he reached the fourth grade classroom he stopped in the doorway, he immediately had to lean against the frame to try and catch his stolen breath at the sight before him. Mary was sitting at her desk, reading over something. Sunlight from the windows spilled over her, giving her and ethereal glow, she was always beautiful to him, but right now she looked almost fae-like. She set aside whatever she'd been reading and lifted an envelope; she slit it open with a letter opener.

"Careful," he finally managed.

Her head snapped up at his voice; a smile lighting her face upon seeing him.

An answering half-grin spread across his. "Looks sharp." He nodded to the letter opener in her hand.

"John." Delight was warm in her tone.

He straightened up and strolled over to her desk, moving around to her side of it and sitting down on the surface just to her left, facing her. He slid his hand to one of hers and tangled their fingers together. "How was your day?" He stroked his thumb over her knuckles.

"Good, pretty much the same as usual." A small frown marred her features. "Though, I worry about Henry."

John's brow furrowed in concern.

"He doesn't seem to relate well to the kids in the class, he never has, but I just can't help but worry about him." She looked down at the desktop.

He squeezed her hand gently. "Do you want me to talk to him?"

Mary rubbed a hand over her forehead. "I don't know. He seems to interact perfectly well with us, but he just doesn't seem to know how with those his age."

"Is it because of his belief in fairy tales?"

She shook her head slipping her hand from his so that she could arrange a few piles of papers. "No, this has been going on since long before I gave him the book." She picked up one stack and tucked it into her bag. "It was actually the reason that I gave it to him in the first place, because he was so lonely." She cast him a wry smile. "Little did I know at the time what I would put into motion."

He reached up a hand to cup her cheek, feathering his thumb over the skin. "Do you regret the decision?"

She brought her hand up to lace her fingers with his. "Never."

He leaned down, pressing their foreheads together. "I'll talk to Henry."

Her lips curled up. "Thank you." She ran her fingers up and down his arm. "How has your day been?"

John really wanted to talk to her about Emma's situation with Gold, but couldn't break that confidence. "Ups and downs," he settled.

She traced her fingers over the scar on his chin. "I had lunch with Emma; she told me about Mr. Gold."

He let out a relieved sigh. "Good." He sat back up, his hand sliding up her arm to intertwine their fingers again.

Mary tilted her head to the side. "So, what did Mr. Gold say?"

He raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

She gave him a look. "I know you, John, when a problem like this comes up you like to confront it."

He gave a rueful chuckle. "I saw him during my lunch."

"And?"

He traced his fingers over her palm. "I don't trust him."

"Beyond his actions during the election, why?"

"When we spoke, he never lied, but he wasn't honest either." John pressed his lips together. "And I have this bone-deep feeling that he is a dangerous man." He tightened both of his hands around the one of hers. "I feel like he's a master chess player and we're all the pawns on the board of his game."

"So you believe that he was telling Emma the truth, that he predicted her telling everyone what he'd done?" she looked at him watchfully.

"Yes."

Mary bit her lip. "It seems rather farfetched that he could foresee Emma not only connecting him to the fire, but also her standing up to him."

"If this were anyone else, I'd agree, but somehow I have this feeling that this man is _entirely_ able of that kind of foresight," he told her grimly. "And as far as Emma defying him, that, at least, isn't all that farfetched. It's totally within Emma's personality to have done so."

She nodded. "True. She would never let herself win through a lie like that." A small smile pulled at her lips. "Henry says that she – all of us really – are 'good' and that means we have to 'play by the rules'."

John chuckled softly. "If only the world was so black-and-white."

When she didn't respond he looked up to see an almost torn look on her face.

"What is it?"

She twisted her ring staring out into the room. "I don't know. It's just that sometimes I think that children have it right. That the world and truth are a lot simpler than we adults make them. That in at least some things it really _is_ so clear cut. Good and Evil. Right and Wrong. Truth and Lie. Love and Hate." She turned and gave him a wry smile as she rose to her feet. "But that could just be the eight-hours-a-day, five-days-a-week I spend with my students talking."

John slowly shook his head, watching her gather her things. "No. You have a point. Adults _do_ tend to make things more complicated than they really are, and children have this clarity that a less cluttered and burdened mind brings." He stood as she strung the strap of her bag over her shoulder. "It's probably because we don't see things so simply that things become so complicated in the first place." He took the books she was carrying and placed them under his arm.

She gave him a sweet smile. "You're just saying that to make me feel better."

"No," he assured her, shaking his head. "I believe it. There's nothing wrong with wanting that simplicity, there's a beauty to it. That's part of the appeal of fairy tales, good always triumphing over evil." A half-smile quirked his lips. "It's not a bad fantasy really, imagining that we're all actually fairy tale characters." He reached up his free hand to brush aside the bangs that had fallen into her eyes. "I certainly don't mind being Prince Charming to your Snow White." He allowed his hand to skim down to hers.

She was restraining her smile but her eyes sparkled with humor and affection…and – if he'd let himself actually dare to name it – love. She turned her hand to entangle it with his. "Emma would probably be giving you hell for sounding so much like a real Prince Charming."

John gave her an appropriately charming grin. "Nah, she's getting used to it. Says, that it's one of my 'charming' quirks. Though she tosses the occasional 'corny' and 'sappy' in my direction."

Mary gave a strangled laugh as they turned and made their way out of the classroom and down the hall. "I really am quite curious how you two interact together at work."

"Really well, actually," he informed her cheerfully. He grinned at the dubious look she cast him. "We're similar in the ways that matter and different enough to make it work."

She frowned. "That shouldn't make sense."

"But it does," he grinned.

Mary sighed, sliding her hand up to rest it in the crook of his elbow. "Oddly, yes." Wry humor was thick in her voice.

He saw a look come over her face. "What is it?"

She bit her lip, looking down. "It's just… After everything over the holidays, and other things, it's begun to feel like the four of us – you, Emma, Henry and I – are almost like our own little, somewhat dysfunctional and odd family." She turned her ring with her thumb. "Like broken pieces that somehow fit together."

John watched her with some surprise. He had also felt the familial bonds that were starting to form between them all, like they belonged together, but had never really been able to describe it to his satisfaction, either to himself or Archie. But there Mary had put it so concisely, the exact illustration of them. Four broken people who together fit to make a whole, or at least a near-whole. "You've just perfectly described what I've been struggling to put into words for the longest time."

She tilted her head up to look at him. "You feel it too?"

"We all do." He gave her a half-grin. "Why do you think Henry loves spending time with all of us together? And even though Emma acts all indulgent and sometimes annoyed with us, why she joins in whenever she can?"

Mary pulled them to a stop and stared at him wonderingly. "You're right." A smile slowly spread across her face. "I've always wanted family," she commented softly.

"I think we all have, even, and perhaps _especially_, Emma, though she'd never admit it." He brought his arm up to wrap around her shoulders and they began walking again.

She wrapped her own arm around his waist, sighing. "I worry about her. Those walls she has are so thick, and she hardly lets anyone in." She looked up at him. "It's gotten worse since Graham died. Not with us really, but others…" Her lips pressed into a thin line. "She's just not letting anyone else in."

John leaned over and pressed a kiss to her temple. "I think that all we can do is give it time and patience at this point." He pushed the door out of the school open for them. "We just need to keep showing her that we're here for her and not going anywhere."

Mary leaned into him, enjoying the warmth and comfort that she felt whenever she was around him. "You're right."

Something told both of them that they'd have a great many battles to fight and they needed to be ready for the long-haul.

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><p>A chapter in which John is, unknowingly and unintentionally, an overprotective papa, threatens GoldRumple, and we get some John-Mary fluff. I hope that it was ok! I am very eager to see the episode tonight with Hansel and Gretel! Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think!


	16. Playing for Keeps

Soooo… I wanted to get this up before the next episode aired…yeah, that didn't work out quite like I planned, but I at least got it up before it aired here on the west coast! ;) Thank you so much everyone for the reviews, faves and alerts! Crazy thing about this chapter, I can't tell you how many times I nearly wrote Snow or Charming/James instead of Mary or John…sometimes going back and forth between this story and **Once Upon a Time…and Again** gets interesting… O.o Anyway. I hope that you all enjoy the chapter!

Much thanks to **Happy Endings for All** for betaing!

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><p><strong>Playing For Keeps<strong>

John was already at his desk that morning, working on the paperwork for Ava and Nicholas; he had been surprised and very pleased with how things had turned out for the two children. He figured with all the effort Emma had put into finding the children's father the least he could do was complete the paperwork involved and contact the proper authorities about getting the father official custody.

His head lifted when Emma swung through the door, a coffee in each hand. "Morning."

One eyebrow rose. "Good morning."

She set one of the coffees in front of him.

"Thanks," he lifted the beverage to take a sip. "You're in a chipper mood."

She shrugged, leaning back against another desk and blowing on her drink. "It was a good day, yesterday."

Elbows on the desk he leaned forward. "I would certainly say so. You not only kept those two kids out of the system, but found their father and reunited them. I'd say that's a job well-done."

She shrugged. "I just figured since he was unknown that he probably didn't even know he _was_ a father." She watched the coffee turn in her hands. "And I knew how I felt the moment that I saw Henry so I thought that it might be the same for him. Now it's up to them to see if they can be a family."

"They will," he told her confidently.

She cocked an eyebrow. "How are you so sure?"

"Because he chose to keep them."

Her head canted to the side.

"Even though he felt so insufficient to the task, he still chose them." He sat back, his hands wrapped around his coffee. "And he's the kind of man that will honor that decision and give his children everything in him as a parent." A smirk tugged at one corner of his lips. "Like someone else I know."

Emma rolled her eyes, giving him a look. "Sap," she muttered before taking a drink of her coffee.

"So you keep asserting." Humor threaded his voice; he resettled in his chair. "So, Granny had someone check-in last night."

She nodded, swallowing the coffee. "Yeah, some guy that just came in. Course, according to Henry no one new _ever_ comes to town."

"The curse?" he grinned, though, as always when the topic was brought up, it resounded somewhere in him.

"Apparently." She tilted her head to the side, looking at him consideringly. "I've been meaning to thank you for humoring him with the whole fairy tale thing."

He shrugged. "He's a little boy; we all need our escapes, especially at that age. Besides," he grinned, "it's kind of flattering being told that you're Prince Charming."

"Yeah, well," she smirked, "you certainly fit the part." Her voice was teasing, but then her expression became thoughtful. "Actually he's done a pretty good job in casting most everyone in town."

"Mm," he agreed. "Madame Mayor definitely suits the Evil Queen." He frowned thoughtfully. "Actually I've been meaning to ask who he thinks Mr. Gold is, just out of curiosity."

"Last I heard from him he hadn't quite figured out who he was yet, but during the election he told me that he was the most dangerous man in town."

"Hmm," he lips set in a grim line, "I certainly agree with that."

"He definitely inspires a healthy dose of caution when dealing with him," she agreed as she reached for the phone, which was ringing next to her. "Sheriff's Department, Sheriff Swan speaking." Graham had been pretty insistent on her answering the phone at least somewhat professionally, and it had stuck. "Hey…Uh huh…Yeah, he's here." Her eyes went to John who raised his eyebrows in askance. "Uh huh…All right, I'll tell him…Thanks…Bye." She hung up.

"Who was that?"

"Louis," she leaned forward on her elbows, "he wants you to stop by his office as soon as you can."

John felt almost overwhelming, contradicting emotions of exultant hope and nearly crushing worry. "Did he say why?"

She shook her head. "Nope, but that it was very important."

He looked down at the report he was working on.

"Go."

His head lifted at the one word from his boss.

"You're not going to be able to concentrate on anything until you know what it's about, so just _go_."

A grateful grin spread across his face as he stood, pulling on his jacket. "Thanks."

* * *

><p>John stepped through the door of his lawyer's office. "Louis?"<p>

The man's head appeared from around the corner. "John, great!"

Well, the man's upbeat tone was certainly heartening. "Emma said it was important?"

The lawyer shifted through a few sheaves of paper before pulling out a manila envelope. "You know," he began as he moved over to John, "I usually am not sure what to say when delivering these papers, but in this case I believe I'll say, 'congratulations'."

John's breath caught in his chest as his trembling hands closed over the envelope. He lifted the flap and pulled out the papers inside.

There it was.

"You are now a single man."

John reached out his hand and grasped his lawyer's in a firm, vigorous shake. "Thank you," he told him adamantly.

"You're very welcome, John."

A relieved breath whooshed out of the deputy as his eyes scanned down the papers.

"So," his lawyer began, drawing his eyes back up to him, "now that you're a free man – so to speak," he canted his head to the side, "what are you going to do?"

A grin pulled at one corner of John's lips.

* * *

><p>Emma looked up as he entered her office; she raised an eyebrow smirking. "Well, no need to ask what that grin means." She capped the pen she'd been using and leaned over her desk, one hand outstretched and her hand opening and closing in a "gimme" gesture. "Let's see 'em."<p>

He handed her the envelope as he sat in the chair across the desk from her.

She pulled the papers out of the envelope, letting her eyes scan them. "So," she dropped the sheave back in and returned it to him, "how does it feel to be a free man?"

He took a deep breath and let it out again. "A relief. And quite liberating."

She leaned her arms on the table, folding her hands together. "Now, I wonder what you're going to do with this new-found liberty?"

John smirked at her knowing look, sitting back in the chair and crossing his arms. "What do you think?"

Emma chuckled as she straightened up. "You know, for all of the school not allowing non-parents to come in during the day, they're _quite_ accommodating to people with a badge."

A grin spread across his face. "Lunch starts at eleven forty-five doesn't it?"

"Mhm."

* * *

><p>The bell for lunch rang.<p>

"We'll pick back up after recess," Mary called to the children, who were scrambling out of their seats and heading to the door. She moved over to her desk to gather her things for lunch.

Henry was the last one to stand and the last to the door, as usual. "Hey, John!"

Mary's head snapped up at the boy's cheerful greeting, John's piercing blue eyes were waiting for hers.

"Hi, Henry." He managed to pull his eyes away from Mary to grin down at the boy. "Anything good for lunch?"

The child made a face, shrugging.

John crouched down; reaching into a paper sack he was carrying. "Well, here." He pulled out a cinnamon roll in a plastic to-go container.

Henry's face lit up. "Thanks!" He accepted the treat from the deputy, all but tackling him with a hug.

John wrapped his arms around the boy, closing his eyes, reveling in the affection and love he felt for the child. "You're welcome, kiddo."

Henry finally pulled away. "See you later!" He dashed down the hall, calling out to Ava and Nicholas who had just exited their classroom.

The deputy watched until the boy had disappeared from sight with his two friends; he then stood.

"You really made his day."

He turned to Mary who had moved to stand beside him.

His breath caught at the smile she was giving him. "Kids deserve to be treated once in a while."

She brought her hand to rest against his cheek. "It was a sweet thing to do. Thank you."

He leaned into her touch, giving her a half-smile. "It was my pleasure."

Her hand fell to her side and she looked down at the bag he was carrying. "What's this?"

He lifted it. "Lunch. I thought we might eat together since I have some news I wanted to share with you."

A grin spread across her face. "That sounds perfect."

They went over to her desk; he pulled an adult-sized chair from against the wall to sit beside her while she cleared enough space for them.

"Henry seems to have made friends with Ava and Nicholas." He nodded in the direction of the door.

"Mm." She helped him pull the food out of the bag. "It's good to see him getting along with children closer to his age, though he still doesn't play much with kids in the class."

They both sat down and began to eat.

"Well, that's progress, isn't it?"

"Yes." A small smile curved her lips. "He's been eating lunch and playing with them every day at school since the three of them first met."

"They can relate to each other probably better than any of the other kids here." His gaze was watchful on her.

"True." Mary nodded. "I guess I just can't help but worry." She gave him a self-deprecating grin.

"It just means that you care," he gently countered. "And it's one of the many things I love about you."

She looked absolutely stunned, her eyes wide on his.

John's gaze never wavered from hers.

"John…" she said breathlessly. Her eyes darted toward the door, which he had closed, before looking back at him.

He reached to the manila envelope he'd placed on the desk and handed it to her.

Her eyes dropped to the item momentarily before going back to him questioningly as she accepted it from him.

"Open it."

She lifted the flap and pulled out the papers; there was an audible catch in her breathing and her eyes snapped up to his.

Hope, that she hardly dared believe in, began to blossom in her chest. "John?"

He stared into her beautiful eyes, not hiding an ounce of his feelings for her. "Louis just gave me those this morning. It's official."

A tremulous smile slowly spread across her face.

His heart was pounding, his emotions heady. "I want to take you on a real date." His voice was a little husky.

Her smile grew brighter. "When?"

A giddy grin spread across his face. "Tomorrow. Tonight…_now_." He was nearly laughing for the joy coursing through his veins.

She let out a helpless giggle, her grin as wide as his. "I don't think we can do 'now' since I have to teach." She bit her lip. "But I'm free tonight."

"Tonight'll be great." He was grinning like an idiot and he didn't care.

The bell to call the end of recess rang, yanking them out of their little world.

John reluctantly stood, helping her gather up the trash from their lunch; that done he looked up, meeting her eyes. "See you at seven?"

"Seven," she agreed, following him to the door.

It opened, and as usual Henry was the first one in; he looked back and forth between the adults. "You guys look really happy…" He eyed them suspiciously.

Mary opened her mouth, though what she was going to tell her student she wasn't sure.

Before she could say anything John had leaned down and was whispering into Henry's ear low enough that the other kids, who were filing in, could not hear. Henry's face lit up at what the man told him, and when John pulled away the boy reached out and shook his hand. "Awesome!" He then scampered off to his desk as the last child entered the room.

Mary looked up at John with a raised eyebrow. "What did you tell him?"

He braced his arm on the door jam, grinning down at her, and said just softly enough that only she could hear. "Just that I have a date with the fairest woman in town."

Pink flooded her cheeks. "You're incorrigible." A pleased smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

He bent his head closer to hers. "And you would have me no other way."

Humor shone in her eyes, though he said nothing.

"See you tonight." He grinned before finally leaving.

* * *

><p>"What on earth am I going to <em>wear<em>?" Mary tossed another shirt across the room to land on her bed next to her roommate, who was flopped on her back across the mattress.

"Mare, I don't think it's going to matter much, honestly, since the man can't seem to take his eyes off of you no matter _what_ you wear," Emma commented wryly.

The dark haired woman tossed a balled-up shirt at her friend. "You're no help," she teasingly groused.

The sheriff rolled her eyes as she tossed the impromptu projectile to join the others. "Yeah, well, this isn't exactly something I have experience with," she pointed out. "Ask me to arrest or find someone, then we're talking."

Mary snorted, giving her friend a droll look. "I'll keep that in mind."

Emma propped herself up on her elbows. "Fine." She blew out a breath. "What about that blue, spaghetti-strap dress?"

The dark haired woman dug around in her closet and finally pulled out a pale blue dress. "This one?"

A headshake. "No it was a darker blue, closer to turquoise."

"Oh! I know the one!" Mary absently hung the dress and dove back into her closet finally surfacing with another dress. "This one, right?"

"Yeah!" Emma grinned. "That's the one."

The teacher smiled down at the lovely dress. "You're right, it's perfect." She set it aside and turned back to the closet. "Now for a sweater."

"Oh no." Emma was actually on her feet and directing her roommate away from her sweaters. "You do _not_ wear a dress like that on a date with a sweater."

"Emma," she blushed, "it doesn't have sleeves and it's cold out."

"That's what coats are for," the blond woman promptly answered. "No, now we move on to the shoes." She turned them both to Mary's, admittedly, small selection of footwear.

Emma looked over them with a grimace; her eyes cut to the dress and back to the shoes once more. "Hang on a second." She walked out of the room.

The dark haired woman watched after her friend curiously.

A few moments later Emma returned with a pair of strappy heels. "These are perfect."

"Oh." Mary eyed them a bit leery. "I'm not sure about that Emma; I've never really worn heels much."

The blond snorted. "I'm betting it's probably more like 'ever'. And these aren't that high." She turned them over so that her friend could see that while the heel was higher than anything Mary owned it was _much_ lower than most of Emma's. The sheriff pressed them into her friend's hands. "At least try them on with the dress," she insisted.

Minutes later, standing in front of her full-length mirror, Mary had to admit that Emma was right, the heels really did the dress better justice than her flats would have.

Her friend had an I-told-ya-so smirk on her face. "David is not going to know what hit him."

A knock sounded from the door.

"Speak of the devil." A Cheshire cat grin spread across Emma's face as she bolted for the door faster than Mary could ever hope to move in the heels.

She cast a look at her cardigans, feeling somewhat naked without the familiar cover, but at the same time there was something in her stirring. Something that wanted to – to quote Emma – "knock John on his ass". She took a deep steadying breath and turned her back on the sweaters; heading out of the door to her room.

John was talking with Emma by the door; he was wearing a nice pair of jeans with a blue button-down that enhanced the color of his eyes. Those very eyes turned to her when she came around the kitchen; his jaw dropped. Satisfaction at seeing that look on his face curled through her.

"Wow," he finally managed after his mouth opening and closing a couple of times ineffectually.

A warmth suffused her cheeks. "Thank you." Her eyes cut briefly to Emma, who was smirking knowingly again.

"Don't you guys have a dinner to get to?" the blond inquired.

This seemingly jolted John out of gaping at Mary. "Right." He turned to where the coats were hanging on hooks and retrieved Mary's; he helped her put it on in a very old fashioned, gentlemanly gesture.

"Thank you." She smiled brightly up at him.

Emma held the door open for them. "Have fun," she told them in a teasing, sing-song voice.

John rolled his eyes at his boss's taunting. He took Mary's hand in his and threaded it over his arm as the descended the stairs out of her building.

"So, where are we going?" She tilted her head back, though not as far as usual with the extra height from the shoes, to look at him.

"_Chez Crabe_."

She looked at him wide-eyed. "That's too expensive!" she protested. "You don't have to take me there! Especially on a first date."

He lay a finger over her lips, stilling any further protests. "I want to." He gave her one of his knee-melting half-smiles. "You are entirely worth it. Besides," he grinned, tucking her hand tighter into his arm, "according to Emma you've had enough dates at Granny's to last a lifetime."

She let out a soft laugh, resting her temple on his shoulder. "You don't have to try to impress me, John." She tilted her head up to look at him again. "We could be sitting on my couch, eating left-overs and I would think it was a good date."

He chuckled. "Well, I'm sure we'll have plenty of those nights in the future."

Mary bit her lip, grinning at him talking about them in the future.

He gazed at her intently. "I don't want us to start out like all the other people you've dated."

Her heart skipped a beat at the intensity of his stare.

"I'm going to be playing for keeps, Mary," he continued. "I want forever with you."

She took deep breaths, trying to slow her racing heartbeat. "You seem so sure," her insecurities showing through in those words.

They had reached the restaurant, he held the door open for her, placing a hand at the small of her back to guide her in. "I told you, Mary," his eyes never left hers, "I know who and what I want."

John gave his name to the hostess who led them over to their table, a small one in a corner off to the side. He helped Mary out of her coat and then pulled out her chair for her to sit down before seating himself. The somewhat isolated position of the table and the dimness of the lighting lent an air of intimacy.

Mary chewed on her lip as she perused the menu; her eyes lifted to John. "Are you sure you want to eat here."

He raised an amused eyebrow. "Mary…" humor tinged his tone. "Keep asking that and a man might feel a bit emasculated."

Color flooded her face. "I'm sorry I just –"

His hand reached over, covering hers. "I know," he told her gently.

She looked up at him again. "I just don't want you to feel like you have to impress me or something," she whispered. "I'm just happy being with you."

He lifted her hand to his lips. "And I with you, but I told you that I want to do this." He brushed gentle fingers over her furrowed brow. "Now I know that it's probably as fruitless as telling the sun not to rise, but stop fretting."

Mary gave him a look that had him grinning, he loved it when that fire leapt in her eyes.

"That's better," he told her with a chuckle as he sat back again.

She rolled her eyes and looked back down at the menu to make her selections.

Once they ordered there was silence for a moment.

"So," John finally broke the silence, "I take it that those shoes are Emma's?"

She looked up to see his eyes twinkling with mirth. She cocked an eyebrow at him. "How do you know that? Maybe they're mine." She lifted her chin, trying to put on a superior air.

Laughter rumbled from his chest. "Because you were holding onto my arm a bit tighter than normal and nearly fell over a couple of times on the way here."

Mary blushed scarlet. "You know, I don't think most women like to be told they don't walk well in heels."

Humor was still alight in his face. "My apologies. Though I must say that I enjoyed the chance to have you close."

The blush had faded a bit but a light pink still suffused her cheeks at that comment. "I said it earlier and I say it again, you're incorrigible." Fondness colored her tone.

"Hmm…I'm going to have to work on that then," he teased. "After all, I'm supposed to be Prince _Charming_, not Prince _Incorrigible_."

Laughter bubbled from her, prompting a wide, pleased grin to spread across his face.

Their food arrived; they both thanked their waiter before turning back to their conversation.

"Speaking of fairy tales," Mary began as she lifted her fork.

John looked up from his plate having just taken a bite.

"Emma told me who Henry thinks she is."

John raised an inquiring eyebrow. "Really?"

"Mhm," humor lit her eyes, but there was something less amused lingering in the shadows. "Apparently you and I are parents."

The fork nearly dropped from his hand. "Pardon?"

She gave him a smile. "Henry thinks Emma is the daughter or Snow White and Prince Charming."

John wasn't sure how to feel about this, though that same something was pulling at the back of his mind as it always did when the "curse" came up. "Well, that certainly could make things interesting, what with her being my boss," he commented wryly.

She giggled softly. "I told her that she has my chin."

He gave a chuckle before frowning slightly in thought. "You know, that would also make us grandparents…"

She frowned for a moment but then her eyes flew wide with realization. "Oh my!"

He smirked. "Even more jarring, isn't it?"

She buried her face in her hands with a groan. "I'm not even going to think about it."

* * *

><p>Mary had never been on such a wonderful date, not so much because of where they'd gone, but because of whom she was with. They had laughed and talked the whole way through dinner; he had hardly looked away from her the entire time, a heartening change from the last date she'd been on.<p>

John was walking her home, her hand once again looped through his arm; this time she quite willingly leaned into him, not even bothering to try and hide it.

He walked her right up to the door of her apartment.

She let her hand fall reluctantly away from his arm and turned to face him, biting her lip. "Thank you, John; I can't remember the last time I had such a wonderful time on a date."

He reached over and brushed her bangs out of her eyes – they really were getting rather long, usually she would have gotten a trim while ago, but she couldn't seem to get around to it. He allowed his fingers to trail down the side of her face. "I'm glad." His finger curled under her chin.

She stared up at him with bated breath.

He slowly lowered his head; a hairsbreadth away he hesitated.

Mary wasn't sure where the sudden boldness came from, but she rose on her toes to close the last distance, allowing her hands to reach up to grasp his shoulders for balance. And, even more shocking, she was the one who initiated deepening the kiss.

John moaned his approval, wrapping his arms around her waist, and hauling her body flush to his. It was a good thing that he had such a firm grip on her, because she was pretty sure that even if she were in flats her knees would have given out.

His tongue traced the inside of her lip, drawing a whimper from her. Something in her, something uncharacteristically bold, wanted to push his control as much as he was hers. Her teeth nipped at his lower lip; he groaned pulling her tighter to him.

His hands mapped the contours of her back, tracing the length of her spine. Her fingers teased around the collar of his shirt, dipping along the skin exposed by the two open buttons at the neck. Neither wanted to stop.

But if Mary knew Emma, her roommate was likely still up and waiting; she had no desire to show up with John in-tow and have to endure Emma's looks.

And as much as John wanted Mary, there was no way he was going to start their official relationship like this, sleeping with her after their first date.

It took all of their willpower to part their lips; they pressed their foreheads together, both of them panting.

"You kiss all the men you go out with like that after the first date?" he asked, a little teasing.

Her eyes lifted to his. "What do you think?"

He let himself get momentarily lost in her orbs. He pressed his lips to hers, keeping the contact chaste but pouring his love for her into the gesture. He finally lifted his head and they slowly disentangled their arms. He kissed the back of her hand, his eyes locked with hers the whole time.

"Good night, Mary."

Her fingers squeezed his. "Good night, John. Thank you for such a lovely night."

"Thank _you_, Mary," he countered sincerely. He pressed one last kiss to the backs of her fingers before finally letting them slip from his grasp and forcing himself to leave.

Mary watched him head down the stairs before going into her apartment.

Emma turned to look at her from her spot on the couch. The blond woman raised an eyebrow. "From the obscenely dreamy look on your face I'm gonna guess that it went well."

* * *

><p>I hope that you all enjoyed it! I know I had some fun and so many things I didn't plan happened! O.O This story just keeps surprising me! Well, I'm going to be heading off to watch the new episode! I'm uber excited! :D Thank you so much for reading! I hope that you all enjoyed it!<p> 


	17. Not Backing Down

Well, I take it that you guys were happy about Mary and John finally getting officially together? ;-) Thank you oh so much for all of the reviews, alerts and faves! I have the beginnings of the next chapter going and plan on having it up before the next episode airs. I had a lot of fun writing this chapter; I hope that you guys enjoy it just as much!

A big thank you to **Happy Endings for All** for beta-ing!

* * *

><p><strong>Not Backing Down<strong>

"So, how did your date with Mary go?"

John looked up at Sean as the younger man captured one of his knights.

The deputy raised an eyebrow. "How do you know about that?"

Sean smirked, lifting his coffee for a sip. "Ruby told Ashley that she saw the two of you walking back from _Chez Crabe_ . Nice choice for a first date, by the way."

John rolled his eyes as he put his friend into check. "Sometimes I really think that this town is _way_ too small."

His friend chuckled, tipping his king over onto the board. "No secrets 'round here," the younger man agreed.

They began to reset the board.

"Mr. Nolan."

Both men went still; John watched Sean's expression fall at the person he saw over the deputy's shoulder, and he knew that his own had gone stony.

The older man took a bracing breath before turning in his seat. "How might I help you, Madame Mayor?"

"May I have a word?" Her eyes cut to Sean, eying him coldly. "Alone."

The deputy raised an eyebrow but nodded. "Sure." He purposely kept his tone casual and attitude almost dismissive, knowing that it would bother her that he didn't act unnerved by her. He stood, turning to Sean before following the Mayor. "Go ahead and set up another game; I'll be right back."

Sean nodded.

John followed Regina over to an isolated table; he didn't particularly want to, but sat down when she did so.

"What is it you felt was so important to '_discuss_', Madame Mayor?" he inquired, not bothering with pleasantries.

She met his direct gaze. "You went out with Ms. Blanchard last night."

"No secrets in a small town." He casually sat back, an intentionally almost bored gesture. "Going out on a date isn't against any laws I'm aware of," he told her drolly. "And since I'm not married," he held up his bare left hand, "I'm not morally or ethically wrong in doing so either."

Her lips pressed into a razor thin line, his obvious utter disregard for her intimidation attempts visibly peeving her. "One would think that you would at least _consider_ your ex-wife before beginning to date another woman _the day_ that your divorce is finalized."

"Kathryn is as much at liberty as I am," he easily countered.

Her eyes narrowed. "What I _meant_ is that you might take into consideration Kathryn's feelings, and give her time to adjust to the whole thing before running off and seeing another woman."

He gazed at her levelly. "How long?"

"Excuse me?"

He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table and lacing his fingers together. "How long am I supposed to wait for her to 'adjust'?"

"As long as it takes," she put in quickly.

He was already shaking his head. "We've been separated for _months_ already. I can appreciate that it's going to take her time to get over it, but I can't leave my life on hold indefinitely. Were our situations reversed I wouldn't ask that of her." His eyes narrowed. "And I fail to see how _any_ of this is even your business."

She sat back from his intense stare, tilting her head up haughtily. "Kathryn is my friend –"

"Then _be_ a good friend," he cut in, causing her eyes to go wide. "Be the friend you keep saying you are to her, and help her mourn the loss of David because I'm not him. He's gone and isn't coming back. Help her get over this and move on." He stood. "And stop sticking your nose into my life." He briskly walked away from the table, not letting her get another word in.

Though what he didn't realize was that even if he hadn't been so abrupt in leaving she wouldn't have been able to get a word in. She was watching him, his posture and stride. Tall, using every inch of his height, confident, strong; a man of authority who knew how to wield it, and wield it well. A prince…

* * *

><p>Mary had been smiling the whole morning, still riding the high from the date her date with John the night before. Henry had been casting her knowing, wide grins all through class. The bell rang for lunch and all the children began collecting their things. It lifted Mary's heart further to see Henry now as eager as his classmates to get to lunch, knowing that Ava and Nicholas would be out in the hall, waiting so that the trio could claim the table they favored.<p>

The teacher noticed that the boy's grin faltered as he turned to the door. Mary performed an about-face to see what had caused this reaction.

The children, who were scurrying out the door, were granting wide berth to the Mayor who stood there, looking ever like the Evil Queen Henry claimed she was.

Henry cast Mary a worried glance, to which she just gave him an encouraging smile and nodded for him to go ahead to lunch. Behind her brave face she was trembling violently.

The boy didn't look convinced but did as she indicated, casting his adoptive mother a "Hi" as he passed her.

"Madame Mayor," Mary was heartened to hear that her voice didn't quaver, "how may I help you?" She knotted her hands together in front of her to keep them from visibly shaking.

As the Mayor walked into the room Mary was struck by the image of a panther stalking its prey; her heart began to pound and she had to focus to keep her breathing steady and slow.

"I understand that you and David Nolan went on a date last night." The woman's eyes scanned the children's colorful artwork that decorated the walls with a disdainful eye as she prowled toward the teacher.

Mary was so used to thinking of John by his chosen name that it actually took her a heartbeat to connect his legal name to him. "Yes," she acknowledged, saying the word slowly so as to control the waver that wanted to creep in.

The intimidating woman turned her piercing glare on her. "I thought I warned you to stay away from him."

Mary wanted to quail under the woman's withering look, but remembering her friends' steel in facing this woman made her stiffen her spine and keep her head up.

The woman stalked closer. "But instead you pounce right on him. Did you even wait until the divorce was finalized?"

The shorter woman felt like she'd been kicked in the stomach; a stricken look came over her face. "I would never –"

"Can you even conceptualize the pain that you're causing Kathryn by taking up with David and just flaunting it around town?"

The woman's words were cutting into her, twisting the beautiful night before into something ugly.

The Mayor moved to tower over her. "If you have any _shred_ of decency, you'll end this with David _now_. Do I make myself clear, Ms. Blanchard?"

Minute tremors shook her frame. "Yes." Her voice was barely a whisper.

"Good," the woman sneered. She turned and strode toward the door. "I'm sure you'll do the right thing."

Mary had been staring off sightlessly at the far wall feeling her will crumbling pathetically. Then suddenly something in her surged forward; calming her racing heart, stilling the trembling and filling her with a steel that was simultaneously alien and familiar. "No."

Her voice, ringing calm and confident in the classroom, brought the Mayor to an abrupt halt and had her spinning on heel to face her.

"Excuse me?" she asked in a deadly calm voice.

The teacher turned her head to look at the other woman. "No." She shifted her body to face Regina entirely. "I won't break up with John."

The woman was striding across the room again. "I don't believe you understand what exactly there is at stake here, Ms. Blanchard." She was once again standing over the shorter woman, trying to intimidate her once more with her greater height.

Mary could just barely feel the familiar urge to cave under her, but whatever it was that had possessed her was drowning it out and refused to let her back down. "I know exactly what you are saying, Madame Mayor. But I have done nothing wrong." The truth in that statement filled her with conviction. "My life, John's life and _our_ life together, is none of your business." Her voice remained calm and even.

There was nearly blinding fury in Regina's eyes; normally the look would have had Mary wanting to curl up in a corner, but at least in this moment she just met the woman's gaze steadily.

"Mare?"

Both women's heads snapped to the doorway.

Emma was standing there, eyes flicking back and forth between the two.

Mary, ignoring the presence of the Mayor, smiled at her friend. "Emma, I was wondering where you were."

Keeping a watch on Regina from the corner of her eye, the sheriff sauntered into the room. "Had to handle a dispute down at the diner." She held up the sack in her hand. "Brought Granny's meatloaf sandwiches."

"Sounds wonderful." The teacher finally turned to the Mayor. "Was that all, Madame Mayor?"

The woman's eyes narrowed dangerously. "This isn't over, Ms. Blanchard."

Mary didn't even blink. "Yes…it is." She remained calm and poised as the taller woman sneered down at her again before finally storming out.

"Bravo, Mare."

She turned at her friend's words to see the blond woman watching her with surprise and pride as she set their lunch down on Mary's desk.

"Where did _that_ come from?"

Mary let out a shuddering breath, as what she'd just done washed over her. Looking down at the floor she blinked a few times in disbelief of her own bravery. "I have no idea."

* * *

><p>Later that evening Mary and John were curled up together on her couch with cups of cocoa.<p>

"Emma said that you had a visit from our resident Evil Queen?"

She lifted her head to look at him, hearing the worry, but also the amusement, threading his voice. "She came in at the beginning of lunch." She settled back into his side, letting her head rest in the cradle of his shoulder once more. "She wanted me to break up with you."

His jaw set, pissed beyond all belief at the gall of the meddling woman. But then he remembered what Emma had told him of how Mary had dealt with her and a grin pulled at his lips. "Emma said that you 'stuck it to her.'"

She tilted her head back to see him again. "I have no idea _where_ that came from…" Her eyes drifted to where their mugs sat on the coffee table. "But it felt…_good_."

His finger curled under her chin, lifting her gaze to his. "I'm proud of you," he told her warmly.

Her heart skipped a beat at the pride, tenderness and love in his eyes. Her hands slid up to curve around the back of his neck, pulling his lips down to hers.

This more daring Mary they were seeing more and more of frequently surprised John, but he found himself enjoying this new boldness.

One of her arms locked around his shoulders while the nails of her other hand dragged over his scalp gently.

He snaked one arm around her waist, letting his other skim down her side, past her hip to grip her knee. He used his hold to urge her to lie back on the couch, which she did most willingly, and then stretched his own form over hers. His body settled naturally into the cradle of her hips, the leg he had grasped curled around one of his, they both moaned at the way this aligned their bodies.

John's lips sketched the line of her jaw down the column of her throat, where his lips and teeth gently worked the sensitive skin, enjoying the soft noises it brought from the woman in his arms.

Small, delicate hands slipped under his shirt; she scraped her nails along his back, before her hands came back around to caress up his chest, drawing groans from him with her teasing.

Snow was always _very_ passionate in their love making, but sometimes she could be playful and even competitive, almost making it a game to see who could break the other's control first.

It took quite a few moments for John's lust fogged mind to catch up with his thoughts.

He froze the moment they did so.

Noticing his sudden stillness, Mary lifted her head, which had fallen back, to look at him. "John?"

He tried to chase the incongruent thought; before a spike of near-blinding pain shot through his mind he caught sight of Mary, again with long tumbling curls and dressed in a flowing white dress. She was staring at him with such a brilliant smile, overflowing with love and joy, asking, "_Do you promise?_" and he had this feeling that this was the most important question he had yet been asked in his life.

At the pain spearing through his skull he reared back, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead and hissing out a breath.

"John!" Mary's gentle hands reached for him, placing one on each side of his face. "What's wrong?"

He lowered his hand and managed to squint at her through the now aching pain in his head. "It's all right; it's just a headache."

Worry flooded her face. "Hold on while I get some Tylenol." She rose and scurried to the kitchen.

John let his head fall back on the couch, closing his eyes against the light overhead. A moment later the light was all but gone; he opened his eyes to find that Mary had turned off all the lights save one small lamp on the far side of the kitchen. She moved back over to him, handing him the two pills and a glass of water.

"Thank you." His voice was raspy as he accepted the pain reliever and glass, pressing a chaste, but loving and thankful kiss to her lips. He popped the pills in his mouth and took several swallows of the water.

Her hand had slipped to the back of his neck and was gently massaging the area; his eyes slid shut and he leaned into her ministrations with a relieved sigh.

"I'm sorry, Mary."

Her lips pressed to his temple. "Don't apologize for things you can't help, John. It's a headache," her voice was gentle, soothing.

He turned his head to press their foreheads together; his arms slipped around her, pulling her to him in a sweet embrace. "Thank you, Mary."

Her arms looped around his neck; she softly brushed her nose against his. "Always, John."

* * *

><p>Writing the scene with Mary and Regina facing off was a heady experience with all of Mary's emotions! I can tell you that I'm working on the first "scene" in the next chapter and I've been grinning and laughing as I go! So something to hopefully look forward to! I hope that you all liked this chapter! I'm not sure exactly when the next chapter will be up, but hopefully soon! Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you think!<p> 


	18. Hope

Thank you for all of the reviews, alerts and faves! I wanted to get this chapter up before the next episode airs. I hope that you all like it!

Ever and always thanks to **Happy Endings for All** for beta-ing.

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><p><strong>Hope<strong>

"It is just so _frustrating_!"

Mary nearly went beet red at the giggles from the two younger women.

"You know what I mean," she told them accusingly.

Ruby smirked as she set a hot chocolate in front of the teacher; Ashley was just grinning into her glass of juice.

"Well, you can't deny that it has a double meaning even _in_ context," the waitress teased her.

Groaning, the teacher dropped her head into her hands and her friends both gave hearty laughs at her expense.

Eventually they regained control of themselves.

"Ok," Ashley began with residual laughter in her voice, "let's get serious. Mary has a problem." She looked about to burst out laughing again, but managed to restrain herself.

"I just find it amusing that you're complaining that your man is too much of a gentleman." A broad smirk was plastered across Ruby's face.

"Ruby!" Mary leveled an exasperated look at the waitress.

"Sorry, sorry." With the laughter in her voice she didn't sound too sorry, though.

The teacher sighed, exasperated but also anxious. She turned her mug on the counter top. "I'm just worried that maybe…" She bit her lip and looked up at the other two. "What if he doesn't really…_want_ me…like that?"

Ashley choked on her juice and Ruby stared at the older woman in utter disbelief.

Ruby handed their blond friend a few napkins. "You think that John doesn't want you?"

Mary shrugged. "I don't know."

"Mary, have you noticed the way that man looks at you?" Ashley commented after dabbing at her lips one last time.

"Sometimes it's downright indecent," Ruby agreed smirking again.

The teacher bit her lip. "Really?"

"Oh, yes," the blond assured her.

"Then why doesn't he…you know?" Mary asked, a little awkwardly.

The other two women shared a knowing look before turning back to their friend.

"Mary, John isn't just dating you," Ashley began, "he's doing the same thing that Sean has been with me… He's _courting_ you."

Raising her eyebrows Mary tilted her head to the side.

"Courting is what a man does when he's serious about a woman," Ashley explained. "It's what he does for the woman he intends to marry."

A gentle pink suffused the teacher's cheeks as she looked at the younger woman.

"That's not the only thing he's doing," Ruby told her with a taunting smirk, leaning on her elbows on the counter. "He's _wooing_ you." Her tone was downright gleeful. "Not only trying to seduce your body, but your heart as well. Because he wants it _all_."

Mary's heart was pounding at what her friends were telling her. "You're saying that he's been holding off because…he wants to make sure that I'm all-in before we're together?"

Ashley grinned at her. "He wants you to want him as much as he wants you. He wants to know that you want forever as much as he does."

Her breath caught.

"Mary!"

They were jolted out of their conversation by Emma's call. Setting aside their discussion, they greeted the sheriff as she sat down beside Mary.

After ordering a cocoa Emma proceeded to tell them about how the castle play set – Henry's special place – had been all but destroyed in the recent storm and Regina's words toward her.

Mary tried to reassure her that it was just because Emma had a special place with Henry and Regina didn't.

Her phone buzzed at her that she had a text message; she frowned slightly at the cryptic message from John.

"What is it?" her roommate questioned.

Mary shrugged, gathering her things. "John wants me to meet him to talk. He didn't say why."

The three other women looked at each other.

Emma smirked. "Talk…right."

* * *

><p>John was staring off upstream as Mary approached him on the old Toll Bridge; he turned at hearing her footsteps.<p>

"Hey," she grinned, "I got your text. What's going on?"

His face was a touch grim as he grabbed her hand. "Follow me."

Worry settled in her as he pulled her along behind him across the bridge and down the embankment.

"John," she reached to touch his arm as they hurried along the bank, "you're scaring me. What's wrong?"

He glanced back at her. "What's _wrong_ is you're _late_." He brought them to a sudden stop.

To her surprise, laid out on the bank was a picnic.

"And the wine is getting warm."

Once she had finally absorbed what he'd done she turned to look at him; he was smiling that charming grin of his. She gripped the collar of his shirt and pulled herself up to kiss him, which he returned with equal enthusiasm.

They were both grinning when they finally pulled their lips apart.

She swatted his shoulder. "You had me worried!"

He chuckled as he cupped her face and pulled her in for another kiss. "Well, I'm sorry."

"No, you're not," she countered laughingly between kisses.

He was giving her a Cheshire cat grin. "Mm," he wrapped his arms around her tighter, "perhaps not…" He brought her in for another kiss.

She wrapped her arms around his neck. "That was mean." She was still smiling.

"Well, I'm at least sorry that you feel it was mean." He rubbed his nose along hers. "Forgive me?"

"I'll think about it," she told him as she brought their lips together again.

He laughed against her lips, his arms wrapped around her waist, holding her tightly to him.

Finally she pulled her lips back; he tried to follow her, but she pulled her head back farther, smiling at him teasingly. "Didn't you say that the wine was getting warm?"

He groaned, but released her. He took her hand and led her over to the blanket and gave her a gentlemanly hand down before settling himself next to her, close enough that their thighs were touching. John pulled out the food from the basket, handing her one of the two plates from the picnic basket.

Mary grinned, watching him as he served the food. "Where did the meal come from?"

He eyed her. "How do you know I didn't make it?"

She gave him a look that had him laughing and admitting, "Granny." He finished dishing out the food, giving her a wry grin. "She was quite happy to help when I told her the reason."

Her bright smile warmed him through and through. "Well, it's lovely." She pecked him sweetly on the lips. "Thank you."

He grinned back at her. "You're welcome."

* * *

><p>When the couple walked into Mary and Emma's apartment to find it near-overflowing with boxes of files with Emma pouring over them with, of all people, Sydney Glass, to say that they were both shocked was perhaps the understatement of the century.<p>

"What's going on here?" the school teacher asked as she and John edged their way around the mess clustered around the kitchen table.

"Sydney discovered that some money is missing from the town's budget," the sheriff explained, flipping through a file. "We're trying to figure out what happened to it."

John, who had been eyeing Sydney distrustfully, draped his coat over a chair. "Do you want some help?"

"No," Emma tossed the file aside, "I need you to stay on business as usual."

His frown deepened. "All right." His tone didn't sound too pleased.

Emma glanced at the couple momentarily before looking back at the file in her hand. "What are you two doing?"

"John is going to help me cut out decorations for the classroom," the school teacher cheerfully informed her.

The sheriff's eyes cut to her deputy with raised eyebrows. "Really?" A smirk played at her lips.

He countered with a single lifted eyebrow. "Yeah…_really_."

The smirk was no longer playing at her lips, it was full-blown. "Well, you two have fun with that…"

* * *

><p>John and Mary were in her room sitting on her bed. John had proven to be all thumbs when it came to cutting out the shapes and Mary had laughed, teasing him about it. In retaliation he balled up his sad attempts and tossed them at her, prompting her to pick up a pillow and bat him with it. He managed to grab the pillow away from her and tackled her to the bed, trapping her under his body and taking advantage of the knowledge that she was ticklish. She was laughing herself breathless as she kept squirming and pushing at him, trying to get away.<p>

"John!" she gasped through her laughter. "Stop, please!"

"Apologize for insulting my decorations!" he demanded, laughing nearly as hard as she was.

She turned her head so that he could see her bite down on her lips closed in defiance.

"No, mercy then," he told her as he redoubled his efforts in his assault on her sides.

"John, please! I can't breathe!"

"Say you're sorry," he insisted grinning.

She pressed her lips together, holding off for a few moments longer before finally bursting out, "Ok, ok! I'm sorry!"

He lessened his attack _slightly_. "'Sorry' for what?"

She continued to try and wriggle away from him. "I'm sorry for making fun of your decorations," she managed to say between laughs.

His fingers stopped dancing over her sides and he gripped her waist, lowering his head to kiss her soundly. After a moment he pulled his head back grinning. "I forgive you."

She swatted his chest. "That's just unfair," she pouted.

He rubbed his nose against hers. "All's fair in love and war."

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she looked up at him with a wide smile. "And which is this?"

He rested his forehead against hers. "A little of both, I think."

"_All's fair in love and war, Charming." Laughter rang in her voice as she danced around the furniture, attempting to stay out of his reach._

"_Oh?" he inquired archly as he steadily stalked her into a corner. Giggling helplessly she tried to sprint by him, but he easily caught her in his arms, trapping her against his chest. "And which is this?"_

_Her eyes were sparkling up at him with a mixture of love and mirth. "A little of both, I think."_

John blinked a few times and shook his head.

"John?"

He looked down at Mary's concerned face. He smiled at her reassuringly. "I'm fine."

She didn't look entirely convinced, but nodded. "All right," she reluctantly agreed.

"Come on." He ducked his head down to quickly peck her on the lips before letting them both up. "These decorations need to get done."

Once they had settled again, her against the headboard and him at the foot of the bed, she set him about using the hole punch on the decorations she made. He would then attach strings through the holes so that she could hang them.

They continued to laugh and tease each other while they worked. But all throughout the evening his mind frequently wandered back to the vision that had assaulted him, and the fact that he was beginning to really think that Henry's theory might not be so crazy.

* * *

><p>"I don't like it."<p>

Mary looked at John across their table at Granny's where they were having lunch the next day. "You don't like what?"

He was scowling darkly at the table's surface. "Emma working with Sydney." He picked up a fry but then just flicked it back to his plate, obviously agitated.

She raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"I don't trust him," he said bluntly.

She tilted her head to the side. "Are you sure it's not some form of jealousy. I mean you two have become rather close friends of late and you feel that it's _your_ job as deputy to help her."

He was already shaking his head before she was halfway through her statement. "I might feel a twinge of that, but that's not it."

"Then what _is_?"

He crossed his arms on the table and leaned toward her, expression deadly serious. "I can probably count on one hand, maybe two, the number of people I trust. The number of people I trust with you, Emma and Henry wouldn't even take up _one_. And Sydney Glass is nowhere even near the _stratosphere_ of _either_ list." He clenched his jaw. "He isn't trustworthy." He glanced around and leaned closer, whispering, "He convinced Emma to tap the Mayor's phone calls."

Her eyes went wide. "Don't you need a warrant for that?" she whispered back, eyes darting around to make sure no one was listening.

"Yes," he confirmed grimly. "I don't like what he's influencing Emma to do. I just know that this is going to end in heartbreak for her."

Mary's face creased worriedly as she bit her lip.

* * *

><p>"You know, a woman could feel rather ignored with the way you've been brooding."<p>

John looked up at Mary's teasing voice.

They had finished having a nice quiet dinner at her place; she was leaning back against the counter in her kitchen, her eyes alight with amusement and her head canted appealingly to the side.

A grin spread across his face as he looked at her from his position across from her, leaning against the island. "I'm sorry."

She straightened up a bit and reached out to brush her fingers over his still slightly creased brow. "You're still worrying about Emma."

He sighed, letting his head fall forward in a sad facsimile of a nod. "I'm sorry about my head not being here."

She stroked her fingers down his cheek, drawing his gaze up to her warm one. "It just means you care…" Her eyes sparkled brightly. "And that's one of the things I love about you."

His heart stuttered at hearing her repeat the words that he had told her. "Mary…" He straightened up and crossed the small distance between them. His hands came up; he cradled her face between them gently, like he was handling delicate crystal. His thumbs brushed gently over her cheeks.

She gazed up at him, the talk she'd had with Ruby and Ashley earlier echoing in her mind. Since hearing their words, everything John did with her took on a new meaning, the surprise picnic down by the stream, meeting her every morning for breakfast and these near-daily quiet dinners. She could now easily read his face and she treasured the love she could see in his eyes and the utter adoration in his expression, things she never thought to see directed at her.

He lowered his head to rest his forehead against hers, their eyes continued to wander each other's faces.

She tilted her head, rising on her toes to press her lips to his.

The kiss was leisurely, lingering, full of the love and tenderness they felt for each other.

A key scraping in the lock had them slowly parting their lips, but not moving away from each other. They both turned their heads to the door.

Emma came through, head down, a completely dejected look on her face and her whole posture radiating the same emotion.

They parted, both of their expressions becoming worried.

"Emma." Mary hurried over to her roommate, who looked up at the approach of her two friends. The school teacher took the blond woman's hands in hers. "What's wrong?"

Emma was blinking fiercely; she swallowed hard. "I screwed up."

John frowned, moving to Emma's other side and helping Mary lead their friend over to the couch. "What do you mean?" They sat down on either side of the sheriff, with Mary sitting closer and John giving her some space.

Emma looked down at her hands, still grasped by her roommate. "The money from the town's budget? It was for a new play set. And now, Regina says she has enough on me that she could get a restraining order if she wanted."

John's mouth tightened; he met Mary's sad gaze over Emma's head.

"And she said that I can only see Henry if she says it's all right…and right now, it's not." Her jaw was clenched against the tears that wanted to escape, but she refused to let them fall.

"Oh, Emma…" The dark haired woman squeezed her hands around the other woman's.

The sheriff shook her head, casting her eyes to the side. "She's right, I broke the law, and legally she could make it so that I never get to see Henry again." She was blinking rapidly.

Her deputy reached a hesitant hand to rest tentatively on her shoulder.

"Maybe, with time, she'll let you see him again," Mary tried to say hopefully, though even she couldn't entirely keep the doubt out of her tone.

Emma looked at her with a wry smile. "Thanks for trying, Mare." She gave her friend's hands a squeeze before pulling away, standing up and heading to her room.

The couple watched her go, remaining in silence for several moments even after she had disappeared.

"What are we going to do?" Mary asked softly as she turned to look at him.

John moved to sit next to her, taking her hand in his and shaking his head wearily. "I don't know."

Mary sighed softly, letting her head fall to rest against his shoulder; he pressed a kiss to her crown before laying his cheek atop her head.

"I think, for now, all we can do is wait," he told her quietly.

"And hope," she added.

"And hope," he agreed.

* * *

><p>I hope that it was ok! And that I didn't put too much of the episode in it. Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you think!<p> 


	19. Chocolate and Cinnamon

Ok, wow! Wow to the nth degree! You guys are just awesome! :-D Thank you so much for all of the reviews, alerts, faves, tweets, PMs, etc… You have no idea how much you help me to keep going on the writing and push through when I hit a wall! :-) A really big thank you to Nat and Malini for setting in motion the opportunity to do an interview with Jeff and Colleen Roney on their Once Upon a Time Fan Podcast! :-D You gals are AMAZING! (If you guys haven't heard of it Jeff and Colleen do an AWESOME Podcast for OUAT and I HIGHLY recommend you check them out! Their web site is onceuponatimepodcast(dot)com and you can download and/or subscribe to their show on iTunes. They do wonderful varied shows talking about OUAT with the listeners, and they also have done other interviews that are just fantastic!) This chapter is a belated V-day chapter, with just a smidge of episode in it. I does get a bit steamy, but I tow the T rating line. I hope that you enjoy the chapter as much as I did writing it! :-D

Thank you so much to **Sassy18** for the edits and the wonderful advice on this chapter! Thanks, _dearie_! ;-)

* * *

><p><strong>Chocolate and Cinnamon<strong>

John had one hand wrapped around a mug of hot chocolate while the other held _The Hobbit_ open. After finding out that it was one of Mary's favorites he had voiced an interest in reading it and she quite happily gave him this copy. He'd only just started it but he was enjoying the book quite thoroughly.

"Hey!"

He looked up as Mary slid into the booth next to him; a grin creased his face. "Hey."

She leaned up and pecked him on the lips, which he returned, before reaching over to raise the cover of the book so she could read the title. She grinned up at him upon seeing what it was. "How do you like it so far?"

"It's great," he marked the page, closing the book, "I can't wait to see how it ends." He turned to face her properly. "So, I've been meaning to talk to you about Valentine's Day."

Mary bit her lip. "Do you have to work?"

"Nope, he doesn't."

They both looked up at Emma's swift rejoinder. She sat down across from the couple. "I'm covering that night. So he's entirely free for whatever you two decide to plan."

"Are you sure you're ok with me taking the time off?" John questioned her.

"Absolutely," his boss affirmed. "I'm really not big on Valentine's Day anyway and not in much of a party mood." Ruby placed Emma and Mary's hot chocolates on the table; both women thanked her. "You two enjoy it." She took a sip of her drink. "How's your day going, anyway, Mary?"

"Henry's fine," Mary promptly answered.

"That's not what I asked you," Emma protested.

Her roommate gave her a look that clearly conveyed that the sheriff wasn't fooling her.

A wry smile crossed Emma's face before she asked, "You sure?"

"_Really_. He's his normal self," she reassured the worried mother. "Regina won't keep you separated forever."

It always amazed Emma how positive the teacher could remain, even in such a hopeless place as Storybrooke. "So, he's his normal self. He's fine," the blonde questioned. "He's happy?"

"Yes," Mary tried to assure her emphatically. When hurt slid onto her roommate's features the teacher realized that wasn't precisely what she'd wanted to hear and she'd taken it differently than Mary had meant it. "_No_!" she corrected herself. "He misses you, a _lot_! Trust me. I'm with him, like, six hours a day."

Emma looked reassured with those words, but then frowned as her phone buzzed on the table.

John looked up at her. "What is it?"

The sheriff scowled at the screen. "It's the station, something's up."

All three rose, Mary let John out so that he could follow Emma.

He looked back at her with a half-smile. "Dinner tonight?"

"Definitely." She nodded with an answering grin.

"Great." He gave her one last smile before jogging after Emma; he held the door open for Ashley, who had Alexandra strapped to her chest, greeting mother and child warmly.

A scoff had Mary turning her head.

Ruby was rolling her eyes as she cleared the drinks that Emma and John had left behind. "You two are so far gone over each other that it's almost sickening."

"Oh, leave her alone, Ruby," Ashley chided as she handed Alexandra to a very happy Granny. She turned to Mary with a smile. "Mind if I join you?"

"Please," the teacher agreed eagerly, gesturing for the younger woman to sit across from her as she settled back in the booth. "How are you doing?"

"Good." The young woman let out a slightly weary breath. "It's been a bit crazy with Alexandra not sleeping through the night, Sean and I going to school, him working, and preparing for the wedding in May. But," she glanced over at where Granny was gently bouncing the baby in her arms and cooing at her, "I don't know that I've ever been so happy." She looked back at the dark-haired woman with a brilliant smile.

"I'm so glad." Mary reached across the table to cover one of her friend's hands with her own.

Ashley flipped her hand to grip hers in return. "It's good to see you so happy as well." Her eyes were gleaming. "I think we all know who we can credit for making you that happy."

A hint of pink stained the teacher's cheeks, but she was beaming. "John's been amazing."

"But I'm betting you're still a little frustrated," Ruby commented wryly as she set Ashley's drink down.

Mary blushed wildly. "Ruby!" She glanced around them, thankful to see that no one outside their little group had heard them.

The waitress cocked her leg, propping her fist on her hip and eyeing the teacher. "So, what are you going to do to push him into it?"

The teacher bit her lip. "Do you really think I should? I mean is the timing right?"

Ruby raised an eyebrow. "It's _Valentine's Day_. When could the timing _be_ even better?"

"She's right," Ashley agreed. "It's one of the most romantic days of the year. Is he working?"

"No, Emma is taking the shift that night."

"Well then, you're not going to find better timing to ravish him." Ruby smirked.

Mary blushed a remarkable shade of red.

Ashley rolled her eyes, at the waitress' antics. "But only if being with him is what you want at this point," she cut in.

Mary met the young blonde's steady gaze.

"Is it?" The young mother raised her eyebrows.

The teacher slowly nodded, the gesture becoming firmer as she did so. "Thank you."

* * *

><p>"What are you going to do about Mr. Gold?" Mary looked at her roommate questioningly over their coffee the next morning.<p>

Emma shrugged, crunching on a spoonful of cereal. "Until he actually _does_ something, beyond looking for Moe French myself all I can do is watch and wait." She scooped up more flakes. "I'm planning on spending the day and night keeping an eye on him."

Mary watched the blonde over the rim of her mug as she took a sip. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Nothing except have a great time with John tonight." Her friend looked up at her, a sly gleam in her eyes. "Speaking of tonight," she set down her spoon and leaned forward on her arms on the table, "what do you two have planned?"

"Well," the teacher began, "he says he wants it to be a surprise," she gave the other woman a grin, "he just seems to love surprising me for some reason."

"The guy is a total sloppy, sappy romantic," Emma smirked, but there was true happiness in her eyes for the joy she saw radiating from her roommate. "He wants nothing more than for you to be head-over-heels in love with him, like he is with you." She picked her spoon back up. "Though, I've pointed out to him that you already _are_."

Mary smiled down into her mug, and then bit her lip, glancing up at her roommate a little nervously. "I-I was actually planning on having him come back to the apartment with me after dinner… And I wanted to make sure you'd be all right with that."

"Sure," the sheriff shrugged carelessly, "why wouldn't I be?"

"I mean, I want him to…_stay_," her friend clarified blushingly.

Emma looked up at her with a droll stare. "I _know_." Her gaze went back down to her cereal. "Why do you think I was already planning on being away from the apartment most of, if not _all_, the night?"

Mary's face immediately did a creditable impression of a tomato.

* * *

><p>Waiting for Mary on her desk when she arrived at school was a vase of two dozen roses, half of them red and the other half white. The other female teachers had gushed and giggled over the gesture, teasing her about how romantic it was, with a few of them confiding how they wished that their man would do something like that. The note was handwritten and "requested" her "company" for the evening; recommending that she dress warmly and comfortably. She wondered what on Earth John had planned for their Valentine's Day.<p>

She'd managed to rope Emma into helping her choose an outfit during a quick break the sheriff was taking that afternoon. It had been a debate for a while, but eventually they agreed that from the note's indications she should wear pants. They had settled on a pair of dark-wash jeans, a white cowl-neck sweater and a pair of red dangling earrings and a matching necklace that Emma lent her. Emma had then dashed off to relieve John so that he could get ready for the date.

Promptly at six there was a familiar, firm knock on the door. Mary opened it with a wide grin, a matching smile was on John's face; he stood at the threshold in jeans, a red and blue plaid shirt and his usual jacket.

His eyes went wide at seeing her and the grin on his face became even bigger. "Wow."

The slightest hint of pink tinged Mary's cheeks, but she looked him directly in the eye, head held high, with a bright smile. "Thank you."

He held up a hand, offering her the scarlet rose grasped in his fingers with a slight bow. "For you, my lady."

Mary bit back the giggle that wanted to escape at his overly-chivalrous gesture, accepting the de-thorned stem. "Well, thank you, good sir." She curtseyed and the lowered her head to sniff the delicate fragrance. "Let me just add this to my new collection and we can go." She turned to the kitchen, leaving the door open for him to enter.

John stepped through and followed her, watching as she carefully slid the rose in with the others he'd sent earlier in the day. "I'm glad to see you got them."

She gave him a laughing smile. "You threw the other teachers into quite a tizzy with these." Adjusting a few of the blooms she continued, "I've been working there for as long as anyone can remember and no one has ever done anything like this for me."

With a tilt of his head he inquired, "No one?"

Mary shook her head. "Never." She blushed and looked at him a little shyly. "I've never really garnered much attention."

He stepped forward, brushing her bangs from her eyes. "The men around here must be blind. Well, their loss." His grin became smug. "My gain."

Mary blushed a vibrant red. "You know you don't have to keep saying things like that."

"I want to, and I mean it," he insisted.

Her cheeks were still warm as she rose up and pressed a soft, sweet kiss to his lips. "Thank you."

John caught her elbows, preventing her from immediately moving away and pecked her lips again. "Happy Valentine's Day, Mary."

A smile curled her lips. "Happy Valentine's Day, John." For the first time she could remember she actually _was_ happy it was Valentine's Day.

"Come on." He turned and lifted her coat from its hook, helping her into it. There was a secretive, delighted grin on his face. "I think you'll like what I have planned, at least I hope so."

* * *

><p>They were bouncing along what Mary was fairly certain were either country roads, or off road entirely. She had agreed, after some cajoling from John, to be blindfolded for the drive out, so as not to spoil the surprise. Finally she felt the truck shudder to a stop, and John shifted it into park.<p>

"Don't take off the blindfold," he instructed her as she was raising a hand to remove it; she heard his seatbelt click, "I'll be over in a moment to help you."

Mary lowered her hand and sat back. "Ok."

The keys jangled as he pulled them out of the ignition and the door creaked a little as he opened and then closed it again. She could just hear his crunching footsteps as he jogged around the front of the truck to her door. Mary turned her head blindly toward him when the door was opened, reaching out a hand where she thought he might be. John's sure hand caught her searching one; at his urging she turned in her seat, swinging her feet out. His other hand cupped the elbow of her other arm, helping her as she slowly slid from her seat to drop to the ground. She was slightly jarred when her feet hit the gravel; she leaned into John, letting him steady her, knowing with absolute faith that he wouldn't let her fall. Mary enjoyed the press of his form to hers, and the hitch she heard in his breathing. She bit her lip to keep from grinning at the thrill that ran through her at the knowledge that he was just as affected by her as she was by him.

John cleared his throat, shifting his grip so that he was slightly behind her, one hand at her waist and the other on her elbow. "This way."

It was a little disconcerting walking over the uneven ground unable to see, but John's steady presence and strong voice warning her of obstacles was reassuring.

Finally, he gently pulled her to a stop. "We're here." She felt him reaching up to untie the blindfold.

When the fabric fell away Mary's eyes fluttered open. She blinked a few times to assure herself that she wasn't seeing things before letting out a delighted laugh.

Twinkle lights were strung around the tiny, frozen pond; a small folding table and two chairs sat off to one side.

She spun to John, who was grinning at her broadly.

"Emma said that you mentioned enjoying ice skating, but that you hadn't been in a long time," he admitted.

Mary pressed her lips together, trying to contain herself somewhat, before she rose swiftly on her toes, grabbed the lapels of his jacket and crashed her lips into his.

John wrapped one arm around her waist, while the other cupped her cheek, chuckling into the kiss. When they pulled apart a bit he grinned at her saying, "I take it you like it?"

She pressed another quick, keen kiss to his lips; delight clear on her face when she pulled back again. "What do you think?" she asked coyly.

With a grin he kissed her once more before disentangling their arms and taking her hand to lead her over to the chairs. "Come on."

Upon his helping her down into one of the seats Mary realized that that her skates were set beside the table; she bit her lip. "I haven't skated in a long time, my skates aren't sharp."

"Don't worry," John assured her as he pulled one of his boots off, "I got them sharpened when I bought mine."

She couldn't help grinning at him again. "Thank you." She joined him in switching from shoes to skates. "So…can you skate?" Her eyes cast to him curiously.

He chuckled ruefully. "That was something I had to come here to test out," he admitted. "I was out of practice, but yes, apparently I _do_ know how to ice skate."

"Wonderful!" Mary declared, getting to her feet, skates already done-up, and moved to stand in front of him expectantly.

John eyed her from where he was still bent over his skates. "How did you get yours on before me when you started after I did?"

She gave him a bright smile. "Practice."

Snorting, he yanked on the laces one last time before tying them.

Mary extended her hands to him. "Come on."

He smiled broadly at her, reaching up, taking her hands and standing. "As my lady bids me."

She rolled her eyes. "Emma right about you edging on corny," she teased him.

"Hmm," John leaned his head down to rub noses with her, a warm smirk on his face, "you wouldn't change me for the world."

She couldn't help the short, helpless laugh that escaped her. "No, I don't suppose I would." Tugging on his hands she teetered over to the ice. At the edge she bit her lip, glancing at him. "I haven't done this in a while; I might be a bit unsteady at first."

His hands rested on her waist as he moved with her gingerly onto the impromptu rink. "That's alright; at least that way you can't make fun of me when I fall."

"I can if _I_ don't fall," she teasingly told him, as they began to slowly and tentatively shuffle across the ice.

"Hmm," he leaned his head over her shoulder so that his lips brushed the shell of her ear, "I suppose, _but_ if you _do_ I'd have to take retribution."

Mary looked over her shoulder at him with a cocked eyebrow. "'Retribution?'"

"Mm hmm," he confirmed grimly.

She continued to eye him warily, with the same feeling she got when one of her class pranksters was about to pull something.

Suddenly his hands at her waist were tickling her and she shrieked with laughter, trying to squirm away from him. Her jerky movements caused her feet to fly out from under her; they both went down fairly hard on the ice, though Mary's landing was a little softer, being that it was partially on top of John.

He let out a groan prompting her to roll over to check on him.

"John, are you all right?" Worry was bright in her eyes.

It took him a couple of gasps to catch the breath that had been knocked out of him by the fall. "That wasn't exactly the best idea I've ever had," he commented ruefully.

"Well," she began in as prim a voice she could muster while still worrying over him, "let that teach you not to do that while a person is skating."

"I suppose so." A smug grin began to spread across his face while his arms wrapped around her form, still lying atop his. "Though, I can't complain with the result at the moment."

Mary choked on a laugh. "You're unbelievable," she muttered, grinning.

His gloved hand caressed her cheek. "I thought I was 'incorrigible,'" he countered laughingly, pulling her head down to his, while lifting his own.

"That too," she confirmed just before their lips pressed together.

The ice was cold at John's back, but with Mary in his arms, every inch of her pressed to him, he didn't particularly notice it.

They let themselves just get lost in each other for the moment.

The annoyingly cheerful ring of John's cell phone had them slowly parting with groans.

They sat up on the ice while he pulled the jangling phone out of his pocket. "I'm sorry," he ruefully glanced at her. "The only person who really calls me is Emma –"

"And she wouldn't have called if it wasn't important," she easily cut in.

John smiled at her tightly, hitting the "answer" button. "Hello?"

Mary watched as his brow furrowed. "Uh huh…Yeah, I'll be right there…No, I understand…" His eyes lifted to Mary's. "Yeah, I'll tell her…See you."

She pressed her lips into a tight smile as he lowered the phone, hanging up. "You have to go?"

He looked at her regretfully. "I'm so sorry, Mary; Emma apologizes too, but she really needs me to be there."

She leaned forward, kissing his cheek. "It's all right." She pulled back again, looking at him with acceptance. "It's your job, and that's something I'm going to have to get used to."

He tangled their gloved hands together. "Thank you."

* * *

><p>John frowned as he shifted the truck into park in front of the cabin. An ambulance had pulled up just before they had arrived and the paramedics were climbing out. Unbuckling his seatbelt, he turned to Mary. "I don't know how long this will take; you can drive my truck back home."<p>

She bit her lip. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," he leaned over to kiss her quickly. "I'll get a ride from Emma. The food for tonight is in the back." John tilted his head toward the bed of the truck.

Mary reached over, placing a hand on his jaw, her thumb brushing along the scar on his chin. "Will you come by after you guys finish up?"

"It might not be until late," John cautioned her. "You have school tomorrow morning; I don't want you to be up too late."

She leaned over and kissed him again, before pulling back and smiling at him brightly. "I'll be waiting."

"Mary, you don't –"

The press of her finger against his lips silienced his well-intentioned objections.

"I _want_ to," she countered, still grinning brightly.

A heart-melting smile spread across his face. "Thank you."

She stroked her thumb once more over the scar on his chin. "Go on. I'll see you later."

John ducked back in for one last quick kiss and then jumped out of the truck. He waited until she'd slid over to the driver's seat and was buckled in, before closing the door and stepping back. They waved to each other as she began driving off and he headed toward the cabin.

* * *

><p>Mary had put most of the food away in the refrigerator; having grabbed a banana to tied her over until John got home from whatever the mess was. She had changed into a pair of pajama pants, a tank-top and sweater, before climbing onto one of the stools at the kitchen island with a copy of <em>Sense and Sensibility<em> and a mug of cinnamon-laced hot cocoa.

There was a familiar, firm knock on the door.

"Come in!" she called, not getting up from her position.

As expected, when the door was pushed open it was to reveal John.

"Hey," Mary greeted him brightly.

"Hey," he returned, closing the door. His expression became slightly chiding. "Isn't it a bit dangerous, leaving the door unlocked and telling someone to 'come in' when you don't know who's on the other side of the door?" His easy stride brought him to stand beside her.

"I knew it was you," she told him simply, with assuredness; cradling her cocoa between her hands.

John leaned against the island, his head bent close to hers. "Oh? And how is that?"

"Your knock is very distinctive." She took a sip of her drink and then nodded at the fridge. "I put the food in there; we can eat whenever you're ready."

His eyes became soft and the corner of his lips pulled into a half-smile. "You waited for me?"

"Of course I did." Her tone made it sound as if it should go without asking.

John cupped her cheek and kissed her sweetly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." She set her mug down and slid off of the stool. "Would you like to eat now?"

"I'm starving," he admitted with a wry grin, following her to the fridge and giving her a hand with the food.

They worked together seamlessly as they pulled out the food, reheating some of it, and placing what they each wanted on two plates. Mary put some food on a third for Emma and then returned it along with what was left of the dinner in the fridge again.

They settled at one corner of the kitchen table; both were silent for a few minutes while they ate, until the edge of their hunger was taken off.

Mary looked up first. "What happened?"

John let out a weary sigh as he set down his fork and rubbed a hand over his face. "Mr. Gold found Moe French."

Her expression fell; she looked down at her plate. "Oh." She bit her lip for a moment. "I take it that he didn't handle things well."

With a mirthless bark of laughter he picked his fork back up again, casting a dark glance at her. "Mr. Gold gave him quite a beating." He took a bite and after swallowing asked, "You know the saying, 'looks can be deceiving?'" At her nod he continued, "Well, it most definitely applies to him. To look at him, especially with his limp, one would never believe him physically able to take on Moe French, but he did." John pressed his lips together, glaring at his plate.

Mary set down her utensil and reached over to cover his hand with hers. "What is it?"

He lifted his eyes to hers. "I'm still worried about Emma." He pushed some of the food around on the plate. "Having her tied to Gold makes me nervous, _especially_ after today."

She rubbed her hand up and down his in a soothing gesture. "I worry too, but one thing she has in her favor is that Mr. Gold seems to actually like her, or at least respects her. And that's something few in town have."

John grimaced. "I know." He let the fork fall from his hand. "Some days I'm not sure who the bigger threat is, Gold or Regina."

"Well," she tilted her head thoughtfully, "they both have…dangers inherent in them and in dealing with them. Differing ones."

"_Exactly_." He lifted his gaze to hers with his emphatic tone. "They're _both_ dangerous in their own ways, but which one is the greater?"

Mary pressed her lips together in consideration. "I think it would depend on the situation."

He let out a frustrated sigh, picking his fork back up. "And that worries me even more."

She lifted her hand to brush her fingers over his brow with a gentle smile. "And you say _I'm_ the worrier," she gently teased.

A wry grin quirked his mouth as he looked back up at her. "I guess we're both fairly guilty of that, aren't we?"

Brushing the backs of her fingers down the side of his face, she gave him a sweet smile. "Well, if worrying all the time about those we love is the greatest of our so-called 'sins,' then I think we're in good stead."

John gave a soft chuckle, catching her hand as she began to pull it back. He gazed at her with a little regret. "I'm sorry that our plans for tonight didn't work out like they were supposed to."

"John, this is life, things rarely go as planned. And honestly," she turned in her seat and scooted closer to him, resting her forehead against his, "this has been the _best_ Valentine's Day I have ever had. Don't apologize for that."

He sighed, reaching his other hand to cup the back of her neck. "I just wanted our first Valentine's Day to be perfect."

Mary grinned. "Life isn't perfect John. It's messy and confusing and sometimes painful, but in all of its _im_perfection is the beauty. The unpredictability is what makes life exciting and interesting and worth living." Amusement lit her eyes. "Look at how we met."

A rueful chuckle rumbled in his chest. "True." He rubbed his nose against hers affectionately.

"Anyway," she wrapped her arms around his neck, "just getting to spend time with the man I love makes it a perfect Valentine's Day."

His eyes locked with hers. "Mary…"

One of her hands slid from his neck to cup his jaw, feathering her thumb over the scar. "I love you, John."

A grin split his face as he gently pulled her from her chair to straddle his lap and kissed her deeply. "I love you too, Mary," he whispered back when their lips parted momentarily.

Their hands and lips roamed over each other. At the brush of John's hands Mary shrugged out of her sweater, allowing it to fall to the floor; his lips were instantly mapping her collarbones and shoulders. Mary's head fell back, granting him full access; meanwhile her hands had begun to fumble over the buttons of his shirt impatiently. Finally all of the buttons were undone and he released his hold on her long enough to remove the plaid and then to tug off his thermal undershirt.

"Mary," he mumbled against her lips, his hands pushing at her tank top, "if you don't want this to continue, you'd better say so now."

She tunneled her hands into his short hair, moving her lips to his ear. "Don't stop."

With a groan he tightened his arms around her. "Hold on." He pushed himself to his feet.

Mary's arms tightened around his shoulders and her legs locked around his waist. With their lips still engaged he managed to stagger to her room, kicking the door shut behind them.

He slowly let her slide down his body until her feet were finally, firmly on the floor. Then his hands shifted from their grip on her hips to push her tank top up. Mary released her arms from his shoulders for a moment to accommodate his tugging her top over her head. The shirt fell carelessly to the floor instantly forgotten. John pulled her back against him; they both moaned at the skin-to-skin contact. Mary's lips moved to his shoulder, tracing the lines of the scars there with her mouth and tongue, pressing soothing kisses over them, as if they were fresh wounds and she was trying to heal them with her lips alone. His hands skimmed up her sides, wandering freely over her torso to take in her curves and soft skin. Lips smoothed over her cheek and behind her ear, where he worked the skin with his mouth and teeth.

Lowering himself to his knees, John allowed his mouth to trail down the center of Mary's body; his tongue dipped into her navel, while his hands began to ease her pajama bottoms down. His teeth nipped at one of her hips as it was revealed; he continued to relentlessly push her bottoms down along with her underwear until they fell to the floor of their own accord. John made his way leisurely up her smooth, soft form, taking time to explore all the hollows and hidden places on her body, until his lips were mated to hers again.

While their lips were occupied Mary's hands went to work on his jeans, her fingers deftly undoing the button and zipper. John awkwardly toed out of his loosened boots, kicking them aside; once Mary had managed to shove his jeans and boxers down far enough he stepped out of them. He then slowly backed her toward the bed.

Having her in his arms, in bed, was intoxicatingly new…and yet also familiar. They both knew exactly how to touch and kiss each other to elicit moans and cries. Moving in perfect synchronization; not with the tentativeness of new lovers, but the assuredness of a couple who _knew_ each other…oh-so-intimately.

When Mary threw back her head, crying out his name, it was wonderful and yet somehow…_off_. He followed her almost immediately over the edge, his own voice calling her name.

They lay languid afterward, tangled in each other's arms.

* * *

><p>John's eyes blinked open to the ever more frequent, contradictory feeling of aching familiarity and confusing newness. His eyes cast down to where Mary was curled into his side, her head resting on his shoulder and her arm wrapped around his middle, his own arms holding her tightly to him. There were no words that could properly describe the rightness he felt in that moment; that this was what was meant to be, that he was meant to wake up next to her like this <em>always<em>. There was also a part of him that felt like he _had_ awoken like this, hundreds of times before, but as far as John could remember that wasn't so.

He glanced at the clock on the bedside table. 2:23 a.m. His mouth was extremely dry, so he carefully and reluctantly extracted himself from Mary's grip and eased out of her bed. Her brow furrowed and her hand skimmed over where he was a moment ago; she shifted closer to that spot and burrowed into the residual warmth, still not looking wholly satisfied.

John let out a relieved breath that he didn't wake her and then set about finding his pants, not wanting Emma to possibly walk in and catch him stark naked in the kitchen. Once they were settled on his hips, he eased the door open and shut it with equal caution. He padded on nearly silent bare feet through the common room; he noted Emma's jacket hanging by the door and knew that he was going to have to take extra care to be quiet.

The glass of water did wonders for the desert that had taken up residence in the back of his throat. He glanced around the kitchen; a slight frown creased his face as he noticed an object hanging from the nearest window. John moved closer to discover that it was the shard of glass that Mary had found in Henry's backpack at Christmas; she had apparently found a way to hang it. At the light brush of his finger it twisted on the thin twine, the faintest gleam coming off of it from the dim lighting in the room and a streetlamp outside.

"_You're too late."_

No!_ He _couldn't _be! He'd _promised_!_

"_Open it."_

"_I'm sorry, she's gone."_

John jerked back with a gasping breath; he squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. When he opened his eyes again the shard was just hanging there, ordinary as can be. Casting one last leery look at it, he turned back to the kitchen and placed his now empty glass in the sink. As he was heading back toward Mary's room he noticed his shirts and Mary's sweater draped over the back of the couch – likely Emma's doing considering the fact that the last time he saw them they were on the floor. John detoured over to pick them up; an item lying on one of the cushions caught his eye and he set the clothing down again, reaching for it instead.

The white knit material was soft and plush under his fingers…and somehow familiar. He turned the fabric over in his hands, frowning. He drew a finger along the purple satin ribbon that had been woven along the edge. He noticed some embroidery and he allowed the blanket to gather in his arms as he shifted it to see what it was. Neat, perfect stitches spelled out in scrolling lettering "_Emma._"

_Emma._

Suddenly it felt like he was being hit with the force of a tsunami as images, emotions, sounds poured into his head and heart; bringing him to his knees.

"_Emma…" her voice cracked, but was completely assured of the truth in her words. "Her name is Emma…"_

"_Aren't _you_ a real Prince Charming?" the raven-haired beauty above him taunted._

_Tears were streaming down her face; down his face, both hardly able to breathe through the pain. "You have to take the baby to the wardrobe."_

_An older woman held a ring up, telling him with unwavering faith, "True love follows this ring."_

"_I don't. Love you. I don't." She was looking at him directly in the eye, tearing his heart out._

_There was no reason to, but he was desperately delaying their parting. "If you need anything –"_

"_Can you promise me that our child will be safe?" she countered desperately. "Can you _guarantee_ it?"_

"_You don't know what you're saying," he begged, gripping the two most important people in the world to him._

_Her bright green eyes met his over the tips of her fingers, the ring glinting where she had placed it._

"_Nobility wasn't meant to be easy," an older man told him coldly._

"_You'll find me." There was a breathless assurance in her voice._

"_For our child," he reluctantly agreed._

"_You don't want me to tell anyone who you really _are_…Snow White," he taunted her right back._

"_You never have to worry, I will always find you." He brushed a lock of hair from her face._

"_Snow wants to be with you more than anything," a red-hooded woman told him, as if it should be obvious._

"_Always." She didn't need the assurance, but he gave it to her anyway._

_Her beautiful eyes gazed at him without recognition, ripping his heart out for a second time._

"_This is not real love. I've felt it. This isn't it. I know the difference." He glared at the counterfeit of his beloved._

_Her face was glowing, as she smiled at him with such love. "Do you promise?"_

_She was radiant in her ball gown; unable to resist, he leaned down to murmur in her ear as he passed, "My darling." Her grin was like the sun._

_Her voice broke, "We have to give her her best chance."_

The tidal wave receded, leaving him gasping for breath. Things slid into their proper places. Puzzle pieces clicking into empty spaces. A distorted image unwarped.

Sharp blue eye opened, Prince "Charming" James gazed around the room, taking a moment to reorient himself. With a deep breath, he pushed himself to his feet, still staring at objects that were both alien and familiar to him, trying to integrate John's memories with his own. It was extremely disorienting for James, because even though much of John's memory felt like his own, to part of him it seemed like only a moment ago when he was slowly dying on the floor of the castle's nursery. His free hand instinctively went to his side, eyes gazing down as fingers traced the scar. That wound, had the curse not swept in, would have taken his life. If it weren't for the fact that the queen's men wouldn't have been there in the first place had she not enacted the curse, he could almost say that it'd saved his life. _The queen. Regina._ A rage that he could hardly control roiled through him. She'd destroyed so many lives, caused so much pain, all in the pursuit of assuaging her own need for revenge on his beloved for something Snow had done as a child and _still_ regretted.

_Snow's wracking sobs echoed after him as he sprinted from their bedchamber; it'd taken everything in him not to just turn back around and return to her._

_Emma's slight weight nestled in his arms as he made his way to the wardrobe, the one and only time he got to hold his precious child._

_Emma._

James' eyes went back down to the blanket, still clutched in one of his hands; his heart clenched. _Emma._ He could hardly breathe as his eyes turned to the sheriff's – _his daughter!_ – room. James knew that it wasn't a good idea but he couldn't stop his feet from carrying him to the door and slowly opening it – thankful that the hinges didn't squeak. In the darkness of the room he could make out Emma's form half-curled-half-sprawled across the mattress, the vibrant red comforter twisted around her legs, and her arms hugging a pillow. The bindings on James' chest loosened, his heart aching at seeing his little girl all grown up; a tear slid down his cheek. She inhaled deeply, shifting slightly; he tensed, worried that she'd awaken, but she just burrowed farther into her bed and let out a sigh. A relieved breath escaped his lips; it was a herculean effort but he forced himself to back out of the room – he could have stood there all night watching his daughter sleep, unable to believe and so overjoyed that she was safe and in front of him – and close the door silently behind him.

James pressed a hand over his heart, trying to concentrate on slowing its pounding; his gaze was drawn to the other room – _Snow's room_. His _wife_. He swallowed thickly, going back to the couch; he draped Emma's blanket neatly over the back, loving fingers stroking over it one last time, before picking up the shirts and sweater and heading for Snow's room.

He pushed the door open; she was still curled up exactly where she'd been when he went for a drink a few minutes – a lifetime – ago. His hands were trembling violently as he set the clothing down on a chair in the corner and made his way unsteadily to the bed – to his wife. James slowly lowered himself to kneel beside the bed, resting his arms on the surface, propping his chin on the edge. He silently observed her, his heart racing. Her hair was so short compared to the long cascade of curls she had back home, but it had started to grow out some since he awoke from the coma, the ends curled a bit hinting at the riot that it naturally was. The moonlight glowing through the windows made her porcelain skin appear even whiter, truly living up to her name. His eyes drifted down the smooth, soft skin of her shoulder, then to arm, to wrist, to hand…to finger. His mother's ring. His ring. Her ring. _Their_ ring. It winked mutedly in the soft lighting from the windows. It both soothed James' heart to see it still with her, where it belonged, but drove him crazy with the fact that it was also _wrong_.

Wrong hand.

Wrong finger.

His fingers skimmed over her loosely curled digits, brushing against the green gem. Her eyelids fluttered open; his heart skipped a beat when his blue eyes were met with emerald green ones. She blinked a few times, trying to clear her sleep-fogged mind.

"John?" Her voice sleepily inquired.

It wrenched his heart to hear her call him something other than his name or Charming, but he swallowed hard and gave her a half-smile. "Yeah." His voice was thick.

She frowned slightly, her hand sliding out from under his to brush her fingers over his face. "What's wrong?"

Apparently it didn't matter whether she had her memories or not, Snow could always read him perfectly.

James reached up to grasp her hand again and brought the pads of her fingers to his lips. "Nothing," he murmured soothingly. "I just went to get a drink of water." He brought her hand up to his cheek, leaning into her touch.

A sleepy smile lifted her lips. "Ok." Her fingers drifted into his hair; he closed his eyes as her nails gently grazed his scalp. She leaned forward to brush her lips over his. "Come back to bed, John."

"As you wish."

They had a long way to go and much to do. But they had a start; their daughter had found them, even if she didn't believe it yet. James had hope and absolute faith that their world would be put right. But for tonight he climbed back into bed with his wife, who didn't remember that she _was_ his wife, but they were together and he knew just how powerful love was, and that was something their family had in spades.

Snow snuggled into his chest, pressing a kiss directly over his heart. "I love you."

James kissed the top of her head, murmuring into her shorn locks, "I love you too." It took a while but he eventually drifted asleep to the familiar scent of chocolate and cinnamon.

* * *

><p>Well, how was that for a little surprise? ;-) I have been waiting for James to remember for a while; I have known for a long time that he would remember first, but wasn't sure until a chapter or two ago that it would be this one. I hope that it lived up to your expectations! O.O If you found the memories disjointed and confusing…then my work is complete, because they were meant to be! ;-) I actually didn't mean for the chapter to get this long (though I have a feeling at least most of you aren't complaining about that… ;-} ), but like with most things in this story it took on a life of its own. I hope that you guys liked it! Please let me know what you think! I'm going over to get going on the next chapter of <strong>Once Upon a Time…and Again<strong>, Snow is tapping her foot and looking at me really impatiently so that I'll get to the point where she can yell at James for doing something not smart. ;-D


	20. Memories

So, I finished this chapter a lot faster than I thought I would… Thank you EVERYONE who reviewed, faved, alerted, PMed and tweeted me! :-D In case you guys are interested, I made a trailer/video for **Hot Chocolate**! The link to it is in my profile; I hope you all like it! So, James remembers…well…this is gonna get interesting… ;-}

**Sassy18**, thank you so much for betaing this, Dearie! :-} Good to hear that I hit the right emotional tones! :-D

* * *

><p><strong>Memories<strong>

James was comfortable and content, lying in bed with his wife curled into his side, wrapped in his arms; he could stay here like this all day…

Except that the sun was shining directly on his eyes. He frowned, turning his head to try and get away from the intrusive light. He and Snow must have forgotten to close the bed drapes the night before.

But the sun was coming from the _wrong_ direction.

His eyes snapped open, scanning the room. His mind was a disoriented whirl as memories of the night before and the last few months came crashing in together.

"Hmf…John?"

Hearing Snow say another name upon awakening slammed him in the gut, but he reminded himself that she _was_ referring to him, that John was what she _thought_ his name was. He took a deep breath, brushing aside the twinge from her calling him a name not his own, and pressed his lips to hers. "Morning," he murmured against them.

"Mmmm." Her mouth curved into a smile against his. "Good morning," she returned.

A thrill raced through him at the oh-so-familiar, sweet greeting.

Their lips momentarily parted; she rubbed her nose against his. "This is a nice way to wake up."

_He was kissing his way from her shoulder, up her neck, across her cheek finally to her lips._

"_Hmm." She smiled into the kiss. "This is a nice way to wake up."_

James pushed away the memory of the morning after their wedding, the first time they had awoken together in their bed, knowing that he had to keep his mind in the present. He gave her a half-grin. "This is a _great_ way to wake up." His hand cupped behind her head and brought her lips back to his.

She was practically purring into the kiss; her arms slipping around his neck.

Abruptly he flipped them, drawing a shriek of laughter from her which was almost instantly silenced by his lips covering hers again.

James teasingly shushed her. "You don't want to disturb Emma," he taunted, his lips tracing the line of her throat.

Her eyes flashed and his heart pounded in his chest at the familiar fire in her gaze.

"I'll show you 'disturb,'" she growled at him good-naturedly. She coupled their mouths again and once he was sufficiently distracted, pushed him over, rolling them until she was sitting astride his chest. At some point during the night she had gotten up and put on his plaid shirt, he liked it, her wearing something of his; it soothed the possessive streak he had for her that was stronger than usual since there was no ring on her ring finger. She gave him a triumphant grin and he returned it with a laughing one, enjoying this playful, loving moment between them and seeing Snow so much closer to the surface than she was when they were around others.

She leaned back down, cuddling against his chest with a contented sigh; his arms wrapped around her and he pressed his lips to her temple.

She placed little kisses across his chest before burying her nose in his neck with another peaceful hmm. "Yesterday was wonderful."

"The ice skating was fun too."

Laughingly she swatted his chest, drawing a chuckle from him.

He let his hands wander over her in long strokes. "We'll have to go again sometime soon, and hopefully next time we won't get interrupted."

She propped herself up on her elbows so that she could look down at him. "You know that I'm ok with your being called away, right? That I understand and don't mind?"

James hated seeing her so insecure; it made him despise Regina all the more for bringing his love to this place that took away so much of her fire and made her so unsure of herself. He cradled her face between his palms, and brushed his lips against hers. "I know, Mary," it was hard to call her by that name, but at least this morning he'd had the time to work himself around to it. "I promise that I know you are."

She leaned her head forward to press her lips to his fully. "Good." They enjoyed the leisurely kiss. "I love you," she whispered to him when their lips momentarily parted.

His arms tightened around her. "I love you too."

Lips and hands began wandering. His palms ran up her legs to her torso, playing over her gentle curves and pushing the shirt up as he went. James really did like having her wear his shirt, but at the moment he wanted the thing _gone_.

Her alarm clock rang annoyingly and _loudly_.

They pulled apart, groaning; James restrained the desire to toss the thing across the room and let Snow–_Mary_, he had to start thinking of her as that or he would slip-up – shut it off properly. This done she sat up on the bed, legs curled under her; he leaned back against the headboard.

"I have to get ready for work," she told him almost apologetically.

His fingers skimmed down her arm to tangle with hers. "I know." He brought them up to his lips.

Smiling sweetly at him, she reluctantly got out of bed and began moving around the room picking out her clothing for the day. Just before she got to her bedroom door she paused and turned back to him, biting her lip. "I'm going to take a shower…" A bright red blush flared across her cheeks. "Would you like to join me?"

James didn't need to be asked twice.

* * *

><p>By the time they got out of the shower and were dressed Emma was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee – judging from how awake she was it was likely at least her second – and a bowl of cereal.<p>

She waved a hand at the coffee machine. "Pot's fresh."

"Thanks," they both said.

James draped his plaid shirt over one of the stools and pushed the sleeves of his thermal up. He pulled down the mugs for Mary – it was getting a little easier to think of her like that, though she would always really be Snow to him – to pour them each some. He was trying to act as normally as possible; all the while his heart was beating double-time at having his first real morning with his wife and daughter.

Emma eyed them both amusedly. "Well, I guess that explains why your shower took longer than usual, Mare."

James choked on the sip he'd just taken; Mary went beet red.

"Emma!" the dark-haired woman yelped.

The blonde–their daughter–rolled her eyes, crunching on another spoonful of cereal. "We're all adults here." Though, James thought that he saw something in her eyes as she said that.

He decided to get off this line of conversation as quickly as possible, not at all ready to discuss sex–more specifically his and Snow's sex life–with his child. "So, how was the rest of your Valentine's day?" He sat down across from Emma at the table.

She shrugged. "Kinda weird…" a smile pulled at her lips, "and good."

"'Weird and good?'" Mary raised an eyebrow from where she was toasting a bagel.

Emma nodded at James as she swallowed the bite she had just taken. "Not long after you left, Madame Mayor," James had to quell the flash of fury he felt at title, "showed up and basically demanded to talk with Mr. Gold alone."

His eyes went wide, he hadn't even _thought_ about "Mr. Gold"–_Rumplestiltskin!_ a part of him screamed–ice settled in his gut with the reminder. "What happened?"

"Well, she'd brought Henry with her and told me that I had half-an-hour to get ice cream with him."

James clenched his jaw at the witch using Emma's own son–_his grandson! _He pushed that aside knowing he couldn't deal with it at the moment–and her desire to spend time with him against her. "So you went and got ice cream with him?"

Shrugging again she told him, "I didn't really see the harm in doing so."

James could. He'd never been entirely clear on Regina and Rumplestiltskin's relationship and that worried him, but he couldn't fault his daughter for wanting to spend time with her son.

"Did you and Henry have a good time?" Mary asked, spreading cream cheese on her bagel.

Emma smiled. "Yeah. We talked and I got to find out what he'd been up to in school and everything and we discussed 'Operation Cobra' a little." Humor threaded her tone when she mentioned the "operation."

He cleared his throat. "I've been meaning to ask, what exactly _is_ 'Operation Cobra?'"

His daughter gave him a wry grin. "You know how Henry thinks that everyone in Storybrooke is under a curse?"

He had to pause in swallowing his drink so that he wouldn't choke and slowly nodded.

"Well, 'Operation Cobra' is the 'code name' for 'breaking the curse.'" An indulgent smile spread across her face.

"Really?" James had to work hard to keep his tone and gaze neutral.

She grinned. "Yeah, he asked if I thought that you might have remembered anything yet."

He _did_ choke on his coffee this time.

"John, are you ok?" Sno-_Mary_, he internally corrected, moved to his side, placing a worried hand on his back.

He was coughing into a napkin but managed a weak smile for her. "Yeah," he got out between hacks. At her continued concern he reached out and squeezed her hand. "I'm fine."

Finally she nodded and went back to the counter to retrieve her breakfast and coffee.

He cleared his throat one last time before turning back to Emma and taking a cautious sip of his drink. "So what did you tell Henry?"

"I said I'd ask you." She smirked at him, balancing her spoon between her fingers. "So…_Prince Charming_, have you been remembering fairy tales?"

Chuckling, he shook his head. "No, I haven't." Because he _hadn't_, what he remembered was his _life_, and goodness knew that what he had lived through wasn't any _fairy tale_ to him.

"_I assume you're the man that Rumplestiltskin helped me forget." Her voice was so dead, so empty. There was none of her fire in her eyes, none of her spirit… They were cold, and as dead and empty as her voice. Why hadn't true love's kiss worked?_

Taking a deep breath, James pushed the searing memory to the back of his mind; his eyes went to Mary, watching her sit down beside him. She glanced at him, smiling, her eyes sparkling with love and some humor. He grinned back at her, the pang in his heart from the memory soothed with that one look.

_Snow was looking at him almost curiously, like she was trying to remember something but was struggling with it. She leaned her head toward James'; his eyes slid shut as their lips met._

_This was what true love felt like, not the seductive, lust-driven illusion that the siren had offered, but the sweet and yet passionate reality of her lips pressed to his._

_It took him a moment longer to open his eyes after she had pulled back; his breath caught at the joy and wonder in her gaze…dare he believe?_

"_Charming!"_

_With that one, lovingly uttered word James felt like he could fly._

He had gotten her back, it might have taken him getting shot with an arrow but she had come back to him and he would take an arrow again, and worse, to have her. They had managed to find one another before and they found each other again here. They _would_ bring back everyone's memories, James had faith.

"Geez." Emma's disgusted groan drew their attention. "You two just can't go two seconds without being sappy, can you?"

James couldn't help himself. "Well, if you believe Henry's theory, it's because we're so sappy that you're here to complain about it."

She spat her mouthful of cereal back out–thankfully into the bowl–Mary fumbled her bagel, sending it face-down onto the table top, clapping a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle her laughter.

Emma grabbed a napkin and, swiping at her mouth, glared at him across the table; James gave her an appropriately charming grin.

* * *

><p>James was thankful that he and Emma decided to stop by Granny's to get a hot chocolate for her and a second cup of coffee for him before going in to work since it gave him more time to brace himself for being face-to-face with Rumplestiltskin. The hints that the imp had been dropping to "John" had James wondering just <em>how much<em> the man remembered.

As they walked through the door into the station he took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever was to come.

"So, Gold," Emma said stridently as she briskly crossed the room, "you change your mind about trading that favor? We've got some pretty tasty coffee and cocoa here."

Sitting down at his desk, James' stomach soured at the reminder of Emma owing Rumplestiltskin a favor, but again he couldn't fault his daughter for it; she'd done it with the best of intentions.

"I will be getting out of here shortly, Sheriff," the imprisoned man countered mildly. "Why on earth would I waste it at this point?"

Shrugging she sipped her cocoa. "Suit yourself." She headed into her office, the door softly swishing shut behind her.

"Good morning, Deputy."

James had been studiously keeping his gaze averted from the other man, but now he allowed his eyes to slowly rise to him.

Rumplestiltskin's gaze was as direct and piercing as ever.

"Mr. Gold," he returned before looking back down at his desk.

"Did you and Ms. Blanchard have a good Valentine's day?"

James kept his eyes on the report he was going over. "It would have been even better if we hadn't been interrupted." The person on whom he placed the blame for his date being cut short was obvious in his tone.

"Well," Rumplestiltskin commented genially, "there's always next year."

The prince's hand tightened on his pen; he didn't want to even _think_ about the possibility of it taking them that much longer to break the curse and get home. He made a noncommittal sound to mask his unease.

"Not feeling particularly chatty today, Deputy?" Craftiness laced the imp's tone.

His insides froze.

_James glared at the man–if he could be _called_ a man–on the other side of the bars. "Tell me where Thomas is."_

"_I'm not feeling particularly chatty today, _Your Highness_." Rumplestiltskin's voice was thick with sarcasm as he drawled over the title, both of them knowing that while James might have _earned_ it through deed and marriage; he hadn't been _born_ to it as so many others thought._

James had gone stock-still; the sheer force of will it took to keep himself from reacting further consumed all of his concentration. It was a few heartbeats before he'd mastered himself enough to respond; he just hoped that the other man would take his delayed response as, at most, the phrase niggling a memory and not him having remembered entirely. "We don't have anything to discuss."

"Oh, I don't know about that." James could amusement tingeing the other man's tone. "Have you given that _charming_ mobile any more thought?"

His hand stilled over making a note.

_Snow's fingers brushed through the dangling figurines, sending them swaying._

_Her eyes danced with joy, gazing at the lovely gift._

He forced himself to continue writing. "I'm still considering it," he managed to say lightly. The imp _knew_. He remembered…

"Well," Rumplestiltskin said pleasantly, "when you make a decision, you know where my shop is."

"Indeed," he agreed shortly. Things had just gotten _much_ more dangerous.

The lawyer Rumplestiltskin had hired to bail him out chose that moment to come in; bail was posted and the man was released.

The lawyer left almost immediately and Emma returned to her office after bidding their former prisoner a sardonic farewell. James was about to let out a sigh of relief when he realized that the shorter man wasn't in any hurry to leave, slowly sauntering over to his desk.

The prince sat back in his chair. "Is there something you need, Mr. Gold?"

Rumplestitskin gave a careless shrug. "I just wanted to say how nice it has been to see you recover so well from your coma and how you've dealt with your memory loss."

James' guard slammed up on high alert. "Thank you," he kept his tone neutral.

A small smile crossed the man's face, but his eyes gleamed with knowledge. "It's good to see a man go from a place in life so confused and lost to someone who knows himself…" his lips quirked into a smirk, "and _who he is_."

James knew something flashed across his face, but that small bit was all he was going to give the imp; he met the man's gaze levelly. "Thank you, Mr. Gold. I have worked hard to build the life that I have."

Oh, yes, the man was smirking quite broadly now. "Indeed you have…indeed you have."

Their eyes remained locked in stalemate, neither willing to show more of their hands than they had already.

"Well, until next time then…" Rumplestiltskin dipped his head in what James recognized as a mocking subtle bow.

"Until then." The prince kept his eyes on the man until he had disappeared from sight.

Things had _definitely_ become _infinitely_ more dangerous.

* * *

><p>So, now Rumple knows that James remembers, and James knows that Rumple remembers…LOTS of fun to be had coming up there! XD I hope you guys enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing this chapter! The next chapter I'm a little less clear on how it's going to come out, but again will be…<em>interesting…<em> Thank you for reading! And please let me know that you think! :-D


	21. Sins

I can never thank all of you guys for all of the support! I love hearing what you guys think and your reviews always make my day! :-D So, we have a character showing up that I haven't written before, let me know how you think I do!

**Sassy18**, thank you _sooooo_ much, my darling, for the edits and input! :-D

* * *

><p><strong>Sins<strong>

James jogged down the sidewalk to Granny's where he was meeting Emma and Mary for breakfast, just barely managing to stop at the corner before colliding into another person.

It was the stranger.

The dark-haired man gave him a friendly grin. "Well, hello, neighbor."

James managed a smile, but eyed the other man warily. "Good morning."

He was pretty sure that due to the nature of the curse outsiders not related to their world shouldn't be able to come to Storybrooke, which raised the question of just exactly who this man was. What's more, from what James had been hearing from Emma and others, this man was a _bit_ more interested in his daughter than he was comfortable with.

The other man pulled at the black leather gloves he was wearing. "Haven't seen you around that much lately."

"I've been busy," James replied noncommittally. He'd been spending his nights with Mary and only returning to his lonely room at Granny's for fresh clothes, but there were progressively fewer of those left at the B&B. He kept leaving his clothing at Mary and Emma's; neither of them said a word about it and his wife just started washing his clothing with hers. It felt so good, comforting, to be around them both all the time and to be so involved in their lives.

"Crime doesn't seem to be that big around here." Amusement threaded his words.

James smiled perfunctorily at the man. "Well, my job isn't my life, and if I don't hurry I'm going to be late for breakfast. Excuse me." He nodded to the stranger as he continued toward the door of the diner.

"See you around, neighbor."

The prince looked over his shoulder at the humor-infused tone, frowning slightly.

The stranger nodded to him pleasantly, a knowing glint in his eyes, before continuing to saunter toward his motorcycle.

"Hey!" James called; the stranger turned. "You know I've never caught your name."

The dark-haired man grinned. "Well, as I just told your boss," there was an odd note to his voice when he called Emma his boss, "my name is August W. Booth."

The fair-haired man cocked an eyebrow. "Really? With the middle initial?"

The other man chuckled, muttering something; James thought he might have heard "like" and "daughter" in the low words. "'W's for Wayne. What about you?"

They stared at each other for a few moments.

"Just 'John'," James finally gave him.

A small smirk lifted the corner of "August's" lips. "Right." Humor and a touch of disbelief slid through his voice, causing James to narrow his eyes slightly. "Well, see you around…_'just __John_.'" He swung his leg over the bike, kick-starting it to life.

James watched him go, there was something about that man that set off his instincts, but not the same way that Regina and Rumplestiltskin did. The prince was wary, but at the same time the man didn't feel like a threat, at least not to his loved ones. He shook his head and briskly strode to the door. His wife and daughter were waiting.

* * *

><p>Just before noon James was sitting at his desk writing up a noise complaint from the town busybody when Emma strode in, her brow furrowed.<p>

He frowned worriedly. "What's wrong?"

She came to a stop at his desk. "Did you hear what Kathryn did to Mary?"

His frown deepened. "What do you mean?"

Emma crossed her arms. "She showed up at the school, slapped Mary and accused the pair of you of having an affair while you were still married in a _very_ crowded hall."

James was on his feet in an instant. "What? Where the _hell_ did she get an idea like that?"

"Well, she's all best-buds with Madame Mayor who seems to _really_ hate Mary…" she said sardonically, letting the statement trail off, implication clear.

His jaw clenched; as he stormed toward the door he checked his watch, calculating that he had just enough time to catch his wife on lunch.

* * *

><p>Mary sat at her desk in the empty classroom during lunch, her food sitting before her still packed, not feeling the least bit hungry. Her hand moved unconsciously to her cheek where she could still feel the sting from Kathryn's slap; the other woman's scathing words ringing in her ears.<p>

Her head snapped up when the door was flung open; John stood there, concern etched on his face.

She attempted to force a smile, failing miserably. "John."

"Oh, Mary," he breathed, obviously seeing the hurt in her expression; he closed the door behind him before striding to her side. He crouched down beside her; taking her face in his hands with such aching gentleness–a raw, stark contrast to Kathryn's striking palm. His fingers urged her to turn her head. "Let me see, darling."

She'd wanted to protest and tell him that she was fine, unhurt, but the tenderness in his voice and touch, coupled with the endearment–which felt so familiar coming from his lips even though she _knew_ he had never called her that–was too much for her. Her muscles gave easily under his guiding hands and the tears that had been prickling behind her eyes, slowly began to slide down her cheeks.

"Oh, my darling," John groaned quietly; he gently pressed a kiss to her still pink-stained cheek. "I'm _so_ sorry."

Mary curled her hand around the back of his neck, eyes tightly shut, trying to let his loving ministrations seep into her pained heart. "I'm ok."

"No, you're not," he gently countered. "Physically perhaps, but she caused you heartache."

This caused more tears to spill forth from her eyes. "John–" Her voice broke.

He pulled her into his embrace as the quiet sobs began to shake her frame; she allowed herself to slide from her chair into his arms. John maneuvered them both so that he sat in her chair with her on his lap, face buried in his neck.

"I'm here, Mary. I'm right here," he murmured into her hair.

"Are we wrong, John? Are we wrong for being together?" she managed between sobs.

His arms tightened around her. "No, of course not!"

"People seem to think so," she countered, small hands furled in the front of his shirt.

John pressed his lips to her temple. "A small handful, _maybe_. And do they really matter?" He cradled her face between his hands, lifting it so that her eyes met his. "The people whose opinion actually _matters_ are happy for us. _We're_ happy. And we have done _nothing_ wrong!" he told her emphatically. His thumbs delicately stroked away the tears still slipping down her face. "We did things right; we waited until my divorce was finalized before we started our relationship. As far as us being in love before then…" his gaze roved worshipfully over her face, causing her breath to catch in her chest, "you can't help feelings, and we did the right thing upon realizing those feelings."

John leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the corner of her eye; Mary's hands had risen and were grasping his wrists, leaning into his touch.

"I love you," he whispered against her skin, sending a shiver down her spine at the utter devotion in his tone.

"I love you, too," she responded with a gentle sigh, the corners of her lips finally lifting a bit. She let her body sway forward to rest against his chest, her head cradled in the joint of his shoulder and neck.

John wrapped his arms around her shoulders and waist; he rested his cheek on the top of her head. "You probably want to wash your face before the kids come back in."

"Yeah," Mary quietly agreed; pressing closer to him. "But in a little bit. I need you to hold me for a while longer."

He kissed her temple. "As long as you want."

* * *

><p>Kathryn was opening her car door when a large palm slapped against it, slamming it closed. Her head snapped around to find a fuming David–John–whatever the hell he wanted to be called now. She set her jaw. "Excuse me," she told him crisply, attempting to open the door again to the same result.<p>

"What the _hell_, Kathryn?" James ground out between his teeth. Abigail had become a good friend, once the engagement was broken off, and honestly he generally liked Kathryn, but at the moment was too furious with her to be polite.

Anger and hurt flared in her eyes. "I think I have more right to be mad than you."

"Why, because you think I cheated on you?" he asked scathingly.

"You _did_ cheat on me!"

"_No_, I _didn't_," the furious man countered. "I might have fallen in love with Mary while we were still married, but we didn't have an affair! And I don't know where the hell you got the idea that we _did_. We didn't begin our relationship until after the divorce was finalized, not even once you and I were separated."

Kathryn noticed several passersby casting looks their way. "David, this is not really the place to have this discussion." Red was tinged her cheeks.

His eyes narrowed. "No, I think right here is just fine," he told her flatly. "If you're permitted to humiliate Mary in her place of work by _very_ publicly flinging false accusations at her, then we can most certainly have a public argument."

"_You two_ are the ones in the wrong!"

"_No_, we aren't!"

"You slept at her house the night before Christmas! How can you say that you didn't start sleeping with her until after the divorce if you were there then?"

"First off, I was over there for Christmas Eve dinner, afterward we watched a movie and I fell asleep during it…_on the couch_." He emphasized each word. "I don't have a lot of friends, Kathryn, who else was I going to spend Christmas with other than Emma and Mary? And second," his eyes became slits, "how the hell do you know that I stayed over at their apartment?"

"Regina heard from Sydney," Kathryn informed him tightly.

His fingers tightened convulsively on the frame of the car; it was a herculean effort to keep his fury out of his expression.

"And why on Earth should I believe you?" she seethed. "Regina is my friend, and you are my ex-husband who just admitted to me that you were in love with another woman while we were married."

James turned an incredulous look on her. "What reason would I have for lying Kathryn?" He scoffed. "We're _already_ divorced. Lying would gain me nothing, and I have _nothing_ to lose by telling you the truth." He waved a hand vaguely around them. "You can ask around to our friends, to Emma, who, allow me to assure you, _wouldn't_ lie to you about this _ever_. Mary and I didn't start seeing each other until after the divorce, and any evidence that _Regina_," he all but spat out the woman's name, "has given you to the contrary is either falsified or has been twisted to suit that allegation." While he'd been speaking his cell began to jangle in his pocket.

James set his mouth in a grim line as he dug the object out of his coat pocket; glancing at the screen momentarily before hitting the green button and holding it to his ear. "Hello?"

"John, it's Ruby." He was surprised to hear Mary's friend on the line, and worried by the harried note to her voice.

"What's wrong?"

"You need to get over to the diner _now_..."

Kathryn watched as his expression darkened with each passing moment.

"Thanks for the call, Ruby; I'll be right over." He closed the flip-phone against his leg before tucking it back in his pocket.

His ex-wife had crossed her arms over her chest, expression coldly aloof. "What was that about?"

James met her look with an equally icy one of his own. "Someone vandalized Mary's car." His jaw locked. "Spray-painted 'tramp' on it."

The blond woman's expression fell a bit.

"Happy, Kathryn?" He began to turn away, but paused and spun back to face her. "You know, whatever happened between us was only between us. Don't blame Mary for any of it."

"She stole my husband." But most of the bite had left her voice.

His head was already shaking. "David, whoever he was, died a long time ago, Kathryn. Another man awoke from that coma: me." He took one step closer to her. "Mary _never_ pursued me. If anything _I'm_ the one who pursued _her_." He stepped back again. "So if you want to blame someone, blame me. But frankly, I just recommend moving on."

She stared at him wide-eyed, mouth hanging open slightly.

He turned on his heel and strode off to Granny's.

* * *

><p>Ruby was scrubbing at the red lettering viciously scrawled across Mary's car, the scarlet color cutting like bleeding wounds across the vehicle. James was strongly reminded of one of the books that Mary liked so well and had him read, <em>The Scarlet Letter<em>, the situation all-too-reminiscent of the story.

The waitress was dressed in her usual uniform, but she had wrapped a coat around herself against the biting air. She still had to be fairly freezing, especially with the water trickling down her arms from the scrub-brush she was using to try and clean off the paint. But her lips were set into a thin, furious line as she continued scouring determinedly at the marring word. James knew that the young woman didn't remember her real life, but he couldn't help wondering if some part of her remembered being Red, of her strong, deep friendship with Snow.

"Ruby!"

Her head lifted at his call and relief flooded her face, which bled into her tone, "John." She turned back to face the car, waving a hand and looking at him apologetically. "I'm so sorry. I didn't notice this until it was too late."

Anger flashed in his eyes as his gaze flicked momentarily to the defacement, but he forced that aside and gave her a grateful smile. "Thank you for the call." He reached out to take the brush from her, which she handed over, tucking her frozen hands under her arms.

"I don't know who did it," she told him guiltily. "I saw her car outside, as usual when she's running errands after school, and then, when I looked out again a few minutes later…" She gestured to the vehicle.

James set his jaw as he continued to scrub at the paint, having a _very_ good guess as to who was responsible. "It's all right, Ruby. I'll see it's taken care of." He turned his head to her. "You'd best get inside before you freeze to death."

Her small white teeth tugged anxiously at her vibrant red bottom lip. "I'll bring you some coffee to stay warm."

He cast her a grateful smile. "Thanks, Ruby."

She nodded firmly once and hurried back over into the diner.

James was amazed to discover that he had it in him to hate Regina any more than he already did. He began to take long, deep breaths, trying to let go of as much of the anger and hate raging in him as possible, his mother's voice sounding in his mind reminding him that they were poison to the heart and soul.

"Oh, my God."

He turned at the gasp.

Ella and Thomas–_no, Ashley and Sean_, he quickly corrected himself mentally–were standing a few feet away, matching horrified looks on their faces.

Tho-_Sean_ bit out several curses under his breath as he moved to join James beside the car, rolling up the cuffs of his sleeves and pulling a second scrub-brush from the bucket of water. "Do you know who did this?" The younger man's voice was tight; he began to help James scrub at the cruel word.

"Not sure," he ground out. "As far as I know no one saw."

Ashley had one arm wrapped around her daughter, who was strapped to her chest; the other hand drifted up to cover her mouth. "This is terrible. Does Mary know?"

James set his jaw. "Not yet. Ruby spotted it a few minutes ago and she called me directly."

Alexandra began to fuss.

"She's probably cold." Sean turned to his fiancée and daughter.

The blonde nodded, rubbing a hand soothingly along the baby's back. "I'll get her inside the diner with Granny and see if there's maybe something better to get that paint off with." Her footsteps up to the door were brisk; she greeted Ruby in passing as the dark-haired woman exited with a steaming mug in one hand.

The waitress handed the coffee to James, who thanked her; she dashed off with a promise to Sean of a mug of his own. She and Ashley re-emerged a few minutes later, Ruby with a coffee for Sean, and Ashley sans baby and with scrubbing pads that would work better at getting the spray paint off without scratching the windows or, hopefully, Mary's paint job.

"Who did this?"

All four froze at the hoarse, pain-filled voice behind them.

James turned to see his sweet wife standing there, clutching the strap of her bag on her shoulder, eyes wide; tears pooling in them. Oh, how he _hated_ it when she cried. His fingers clenched around the pad in his hand. "We don't know."

"I'm so sorry, Mary," Ruby said in a rush. "I just looked out the window and it was like this."

"People around here really need to mind their own business." Sean scowled.

James dunked the scrub pad in the water again. "Apparently they haven't heard the saying, 'let he who is without sin cast the first stone.'"

Ruby shook her head, arms crossed over her chest. "People just find it all too easy to stand in judgment of others; thinking themselves better when we all have skeletons."

Ashley moved over to Mary, placing a comforting hand on the elder woman's shoulder. "Don't worry, it might take a little while but it will blow over."

Mary gazed tearfully at her defaced car. "But what about until then?"

James dropped the pad to go to her, but Ashley had already pulled Mary into a tight hug.

"We'll all be here for you, and so will Emma and Henry." She pulled back, giving Mary an encouraging grin. "You _won't_ go through this alone," she swore.

Mary's eyes scanned over the other three, Ruby's lips were set in a stubborn line as she nodded firmly, Sean looked up from scrubbing at the "M" and grinned at her warmly. Finally her eyes settled on John; her heart melted in her chest at the blazing love in his gaze. He moved closer to her, coming to stand in front of her. His free hand rose, fingers settling assuredly around the curve of her throat; the digits were icy and sent a shiver through her, but Mary hardly noticed with the intent gaze he focused on her.

His thumb feathered across her pulse. "No one is going anywhere, Mary; you're not going to face this alone."

Slowly, tentatively, a smile lifted her lips, hope, love and comfort laying balm over the aching, bleeding wounds opened by the events of the day.

* * *

><p>That evening James was in the kitchen making spaghetti, admittedly it was the only thing besides Mac n' Cheese that he knew how to cook, when Emma came through the door.<p>

"Hey," his daughter greeted him, eyes darting around the common room.

"Hi, Emma." He stirred the pasta.

She moved over to the island, setting her keys down. "Where's Mary?"

"Taking a bath." He tipped his chin in the direction of the bathroom. "She's had a really rough day."

The blonde scowled. "Yeah, I saw her car. Who did it?"

Blue eyes cut toward the bathroom before he answered her lowly, "So far as I know, no one saw, but I have my suspicions."

Emma compressed her lips. "Madame Mayor?"

He turned off the burner and took the pot of pasta over to the colander in the sink. "Or one of her minions."

She leaned into her palms on the countertop. "That woman has serious problems."

James snorted. "That's putting it lightly." He lifted the strained pasta and dumped it back into the pot, covering it with the lid.

One finger tapping on the counter, she glanced toward the bathroom, and then looked back at him. "How's Mary doing?"

He let out a heavy sigh. "Better than earlier; Ruby, Sean and Ashley helped me clean her car a bit and reassured her that they don't believe the gossip. She's still hurting; you know her, she can't stand the thought of people scorning her like this."

Emma set her jaw and shook her head. "I don't get how Madame Mayor can hate someone as good and kind as Mary so much."

It was a good thing that James had turned to the stove again to stir the sauce; his expression darkened and his hand clenched convulsively around the spoon. "Well, as you said, she has serious problems." He barely managed to keep most of the fury out of his voice.

She made a sound of agreement.

"So, where have you been all afternoon?" He changed the subject, lifting a spoonful of the marinara to his lips for a taste.

She snorted. "Well, gee, _Dad_," he choked on the sauce, "I went out to a wild rave and took an acid trip."

James snatched up a dish towel, hacking into it as he glared at his daughter, who was smirking at him unrepentantly. "I was asking simply out of curiosity," he managed in a strangled voice.

"I know. It was payback for the other day."

He swiped his mouth once more before tossing the towel aside and turning the heat down on the sauce. "Well, now you've got me wondering just what you _did_ do."

Emma laughed lightly. "Nothing really." She plucked one of the uncooked noodles from the pasta box on the counter, broke it in half and began chewing on it. "Few weeks ago I promised that August Booth guy that I'd let him buy me a drink in exchange for knowing what was in the box he was carrying around."

James felt like he should be warning his daughter about making deals as frequently and carelessly as that, but bit his tongue, knowing that she'd likely not receive the advice well. "What's in the box?"

"A typewriter." She shrugged at his raised eyebrows. "He says he's a writer."

He leaned back against the counter with his arms loosely crossed. "So you went and had a few drinks at Granny's or the Rabbit Hole?"

She let out a laugh. "Nope." He lifted an eyebrow at the amusement in her voice. "He took me to a well and we each had a cup of water from it."

His eyebrows migrated to his hairline. "Really?"

"_Really_." She shook her head, bemusedly. "I'm trying to figure that guy out, but he just keeps tossing me curveballs."

They heard water rushing through the pipes in the walls, signaling that the bathtub was being drained.

James went to the cabinets and pulled down three plates. "I'm not sure what to think about him, but I don't think he's a threat."

"Hmm." She agreed, stepping around the island to gather the silverware for the table. "Yeah, and he says he never lies, but I've never met someone who was actually telling the truth when they said that."

He canted his head at her. "I wouldn't lie to you, Emma."

"Yeah, but you just qualified that statement," she pointed out, "you said you wouldn't lie to _me_. August said he didn't lie _period_."

"True," he acknowledged.

After setting the table, Emma moved back to the island, watching him. "So, you don't deny that you'd lie to someone?"

"I try not to, but if it was a matter of protecting you, Mary, Henry or one of our friends, then definitely." His answer was prompt and firm, without even a breath of doubt. He lifted his eyes to meet her gaze directly.

After a couple of heartbeats, apparently Emma was satisfied with the veracity of his statement and nodded. "Fair enough."

"Emma, I didn't hear you come in." Mary was running a towel over her damp hair as she padded on bare feet to join them in the kitchen.

"I just got in a few minutes ago." She nodded in James' direction. "And apparently right on time because your man just finished making dinner."

His wife turned a pleased gaze to him. "You didn't have to." She came to stand beside him, weaving her fingers through his.

James pressed a kiss to her temple. "I wanted to."

"Thank you," she told him softly.

Their daughter clearing her throat quite loudly drew them apart. "Could you two save that for when I'm not in the same room?"

He rolled his eyes, but secretly treasured finally getting to hear his child complain about him and Snow being so publicly affectionate.

Mary was beginning to move toward the table when he was struck with a need to tease his daughter a little more. Rather than releasing Mary's hand, he tightened his fingers and pulled her back to him, covering her surprised lips with his own and devouring her mouth in a searing kiss. At first his wife let out a startled noise, but soon she melted into him, free arm wrapping around his neck to pull herself even closer. He could hear Emma's strangled sound of dismay and protest. He grinned against Mary's lips and once he was certain he'd satisfactorily embarrassed his daughter he slowly disentangled himself from this wife.

Mary's gaze was a bit hazy, but she was clear-headed enough to swat his chest in admonishment. "That was mean." The huskiness in her voice _really_ undermined her effort to sound disapproving.

His grin was completely unabashed as he looked from his wife to Emma.

The blonde turned her gaze back to them from where she'd been staring at the wall, and glared at him balefully.

James finally released Mary. "Consider that _my_ payback," he teased his daughter.

Emma rolled her eyes and headed toward the table, grumbling.

He looked down to see Mary cocking an eyebrow at him. "What was that about?"

His head bent again to place a light, chaste kiss on the lips. "Just a joke between the two of us."

"Hmm…"

James chuckled at the far too familiar way she eyed him. _Gods, how he missed his Snow._ But as he sat down with Emma and Mary at the dinner table he found himself fairly content.

* * *

><p>So, how did I do writing August? I'd actually been wondering when I was actually going to get to write him. I hope that I didn't put too much of the show into the chapter. I will be incorporating quite a bit of the canon plot into HC's plot line, but I already know how I want Emma to find out James remembers and such, and how Snow remembers, which I'm pretty sure will all be different than how they are doing it on the show. I hope that you liked it! :-D Thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you think!<p> 


	22. Looking Forward to Forever

I am SO sorry about how long it took to write this! But it's a long chapter so hopefully that'll make up a bit for the long wait! :-) Thank you so much for all of the encouragement! :-D Your reviews, tweets, messages, faves and alerts help keep me going when writer's block bogs me down!

**Sassy**, my darling…THANK YOU! You're edits and comments are SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO…helpful! And thank you for when you keep pushing me for more in a scene, it always helps add more to it! :-D

* * *

><p><strong>Looking Forward to Forever<strong>

_The arrow slowly tracked the path of the queen. Snow's hand could release the projectile at any moment and James wouldn't be able to reach her in time to stop her. She steadied her hand, drawing back a bit more on the string, readying to shoot the arrow off. He couldn't let her do that! He couldn't let her destroy her soul! He _refused _lose her like that!_

_He leapt as she loosed the arrow, praying that his timing and position were good enough. The sharp slam of the projectile in his shoulder ripped a shout of pain from his throat; when he hit the ground the wound burned, drawing forth a long groan, but at the same time the agony brought relief crashing over him._

_Snow was safe._

"_What do you think you're doing?" she all but screamed. "Why would you do this?" Her tone was thick with incredulity._

"_Well," he began, voice strained, as he managed to roll to his side, "because…you said you appreciate…action more than words," he wryly completed, allowing his weight to fall against a tree. "So now," James leaned on the tree to help himself stay upright and turned to face her, clutching his injured shoulder, "you're gonna get both."_

_She let out an exasperated scoff, turning from him momentarily before looking back._

_He gazed at her intently. "I love you, Snow," the absolute truth of the statement imbued every syllable._

"_But I _don't _love you!" she countered, sounding even more exasperated if that was possible._

_A particularly sharp pain shot from the wound, drawing a groan from him and he leaned more heavily on the trunk._

"_I don't even _remember_ you!" she added, as if he might have forgotten that particularly painful fact._

"_Well, I don't care," he informed her flatly, trying to keep the pain spearing through him at her reminder out of his voice._

_There was such confusion and disbelief in her expression._

"_The only thing I care about is that you don't forget who you really are."_

_Snow stared at him, shaking her head slightly, incomprehension plain on her face._

_He leveled his most direct gaze on her, so that she wouldn't be able to doubt the veracity of what he was about to say. "I would rather _die_ than let you fill your heart with darkness."_

_Shock flashed in her eyes; she blinked rapidly. "You would really die for me?" Her voice was so quiet and there was a note to it that he didn't recognize._

"_Does it _look_ like I'm making this up?" Meeting her eyes, he gestured to the arrow still sticking out of his shoulder, voice sardonic._

_With aching honesty she admitted, "No one's ever done anything like this for me before."_

_As he looked at her James could finally name what he had heard in her voice, because it was painted all over her face at the moment. Vulnerability, something that Snow had always worked so hard to hide from the world; he'd only seen brief flashes of it in their prior encounters but now it was raw and naked. His head fell back against the tree, the defenses that he'd erected to protect himself while dealing with this Snow-who-didn't-remember-him crashing down around him at the tears welling in her eyes._

_With a blink of her eye a tear finally slid down her cheek. "No one's ever been willing to _die_ for me." There was a touch of wonder to her tone now._

_He didn't think he'd ever wanted to pull her into his arms more, desperately needing to comfort and reassure her, but unable to cross the chasm between them. "No one you can remember," he simply corrected, his own emotional agony coloring his voice._

_Surprise flooded her expression._

_Another agonized gasp escaped James, though this time it was drawn more from his heart than his shoulder, and he turned into the tree as he felt tears threatening, retreating into himself. Despite his best efforts, a single tear managed to leak out and trickled down his cheek. His heart was so raw and bleeding from everything that had happened since Snow had shown up in his chambers at the castle._

_A gentle touch on his shoulder, hardly more than a whisper against him, pulled him out of his pain. He turned his head to look at the gloved hand that rested on his good arm so softly; he followed it to Snow's face._

_There was compassion in her eyes now…and something else. A determination entered her expression as she stepped closer to him and reached out her other hand to rest with a contradicting mix of tentativeness and assuredness against his cheek._

_He tried to tamp down the desperate hope that threaded into his heart._

_Studying his features intently, she slowly leaned her head to his, James' eyes sliding closed as their lips met in their first mutual kiss._

_James wondered how it was possible to experience such bliss when his shoulder was on fire with pain and his heart still felt like it had been dragged behind his horse across the breadth of the kingdom. The kiss was chaste, but sweet and passionate, holding such depth of emotion. He never wanted this moment to end._

_Their lips finally parted, though they didn't pull far apart. He kept his eyes closed for several heartbeats longer, clinging to the emotions and wonderful feeling of her lips against his for just a little longer, in case this was his last chance to kiss his true love. When he did open his eyes, it was to see her emerald ones full of surprise and awe. His heart began pounding in his chest; he was fighting a losing battle in trying to rein in the hope that was surging in him. Could he dare hope?_

"_Charming!" Joy, love, affection and wonder overflowed her tone; real recognition was alight in her eyes._

"_Yes," he breathed, a grin spreading across his face, "it's me."_

_They were both laughing, gasping and grinning like fools as their lips met over and over in ecstatic, loving kisses. Their hands clamoring to pull each other closer–_

A sharp rap on the door snapped James out of the dream-memory.

"Hmm?" Mary sleepily stirred against his chest, lifting her head in the direction of her bedroom door. "What is it?" she mumbled just loud enough to be heard through the barrier, her arm unconsciously tightening where it was wrapped across his middle.

"Sorry to disturb you two," Emma called apologetically from the other side. "But we have a call, John."

The couple reluctantly disentangled themselves from each other. He checked the clock on the bedside table as he pulled on his jeans. 3:45 a.m.

Buttoning up his flannel shirt, James glanced over at Mary on the bed, making sure she was covered before he opened the door. Sitting up on the bed, drowsily pushing her bangs from her eyes, she was wrapped in another of his plaid shirts. With the shirt he was donning half-way done up he pulled open the door; his daughter stood there, two coffee cups in hand, looking only slightly more awake than he felt.

"Here," she shoved one of the mugs at him groggily.

"Thanks," he mumbled against the rim of the mug, taking a sip before going over to the chair in the corner and sitting down to pull on his work boots.

"What happened?" Mary had drawn her knees up to her chest, blinking rapidly, trying to clear the sleep from her eyes.

Emma swallowed the gulp of coffee she'd taken, shrugging. "Someone found a car abandoned by the side of the road near the edge of town. It appears to have crashed there and there's no sign of anyone around."

James looked up, a worried frown on his face. "Whose car is it?"

"I don't know," the sheriff shook her head, "we'll run the plates when we get there."

Once the laces on his second boot were tied, he stood, going over to the table on what was quickly becoming his side of the bed and gathering his wallet and keys. He then bent his head to Mary's, kissing her briefly but lovingly. "I'll try to see you at lunch."

Her hand skimmed over the side of his face and she smiled at him sweetly. "Don't worry if you have to work."

A grin lit his face as he pecked her on the mouth once more. "Love you."

"Love you too." Her voice revealed that she was obviously drifting back toward sleep.

"Get some more sleep, you have a day full of volunteering to start in a few hours," he teasingly told her, stroking a thumb across her cheek.

"Hmm," she sleepily confirmed as she lay back down in bed.

Gods, how James wanted to join her, but he forced himself out of the room. He and Emma pulled their coats off of the hooks by the front door and yanked them on as they ducked out of the apartment.

* * *

><p>Storybrooke wasn't a town with a thriving nightlife or a place where people routinely got up before 6 a.m. so the roads were deserted, stores and homes dark. They headed down the road out of town, a sinking feeling settling in James' gut, having heard stories about what happened to people who'd tried to leave Storybrooke.<p>

That he recognized the car wasn't all that surprising, Storybrooke wasn't a big place, but just _who_ the car belonged to was.

"That's Kathryn's." James frowned worriedly as they climbed out of the police car.

Emma cast him a surprised glance, tinged with worry. "You sure?"

"Positive."

They both jogged over to the vehicle, the man who'd been waiting beside it turned at their approach, and it was all James could do to keep his jaw from falling open and gaping.

It was Frederick.

_Gods, where was Abigail? She needed to be here! Her Frederick was here!_

Slowing his pace, James swallowed, turning his gaze back to the car, and trying to make it seem that the shock on his face was all from recognizing his ex's vehicle. Under the guise of taking a closer look at the car he moved to stand by the open door, eyes cutting discreetly to the other man. His heart ached for the couple whom he'd come to call friends. Frederick's face was fairly stoic, but there was a loneliness in his eyes, just like most everyone else in town.

"Sheriff Swan," Emma introduced herself. "You found the car?"

The young man nodded. "Yeah. Rick Aurum, I'm the gym teacher at the elementary school."

"You didn't see anything or anyone when you drove up?"

He shook his head. "Everything's exactly as I found it; I called you immediately."

"What were you doing out here at this hour?" Emma was careful to keep her tone neutral, non-accusatory. James still had to fight the urge to tell his daughter that Frederick would never even _dream_ of hurting Abigail.

Rick buried his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "Sometimes I can't sleep so I go for a drive to try and clear my head or at least organize my thoughts.

"Do you know whose car this is?"

"No." Rick turned a regretful glance at the vehicle. "I recognize it, but I don't know who it belongs to."

"Thanks, can you wait over there for now?" She nodded in the direction of his car. "I might have a couple more questions."

"Sure." The gym teacher headed to his own car.

Once the other man was out of earshot Emma turned to James. "You have to stay away from this, John," she told him firmly.

Shock once again lit his expression. "No, Emma I want to help find Kathryn."

"I know you do, John, and likely this," she waved a hand at the crashed car, "is just an accident. She could've wandered off or was picked up by a passing motorist, but you're personally involved and you can't work a case that involves your ex-wife."

James clenched his hands at his sides, lips pressed into a thin line, but he nodded jerkily. "I'll just check for any signs of someone heading into the woods."

His daughter nodded, understanding in her face. "You should probably call Mary as soon as it's closer to a decent hour and ask her to pick you up."

"Right," he mumbled, heading toward the tree line, flashlight scanning the foliage, and icy dread settling in his gut.

* * *

><p>James leaned back in the passenger seat of the cruiser, head propped on the headrest; he checked his watch and seeing that it was 6:02 reached for his cell and called Mary. After explaining the situation and assuring her that Emma thought that Kathryn had simply caught a ride with someone else–though the dread coiling through him told him otherwise–his wife said she'd be there in a few minutes. After exchanging "I love you's" they hung up and James once again let his head fall back against the seat. There had been no sign of a struggle anywhere and he hadn't found any indication of her going into the woods. He <em>highly<em> doubted that Kathryn had been picked up by another motorist, knowing what he did of the curse.

The crunching of gravel had his head lifting, Emma was approaching the passenger side door where he was sitting; he opened it and got out. "What's up?"

She shoved her hands into her coat pockets, discomfort flitting across her expression. "I have to ask you a couple of questions."

There was a wry quirk to his lips. "Am I a suspect?"

She sighed, attempting to give him a small smile. "No…well…"

"Not yet," he finished for her.

Her mouth opened, about to say something, but he spoke first.

"Emma, it's fine." He gave her a half-grin. "What do you need to know?"

Relief chased across her expression before assuming a professional demeanor. "When was the last time you saw Kathryn?"

James knew that now was the time to get specific. "Saw or talked to?"

A surprised frown marred her expression. "There's a difference?"

"Mm hmm," he confirmed with a nod.

"Umm," she glanced to the side before looking back at him, "both?"

"As I'm sure most of the town can attest to, the last time I saw Kathryn was when she and I had a _very_ public argument yesterday by her car in town, though I never laid a hand on her."

"And when was the last time you spoke with her?"

"Last night, when you ran back to the station?" She nodded to confirm that she remembered. "I had to go by Granny's to pick up a couple of things; while I was there I got a call from Kathryn."

"What did you talk about?"

A soft snort escaped him. "After this," he tilted his chin in the direction of Kathryn's car, "it's probably going to sound like a lie or something."

Emma gave him a look. "I know when people are lying, so just tell me."

He studied her for a moment before finally speaking. "She apologized for what she did to Mary and asked that I tell Mary that she was sorry as well; I was going to this morning. She then said that she was going to move on and that she truly believed that Mary and I belong together and hoped that we were happy."

His daughter's eyebrows shot up, skepticism tingeing her expression.

He raised his hands. "I told you, it sounds like I'm making this up but I'm not. I actually thought she was playing at something but she said no, that she believed what Mary and I had was real and that she wanted to find that for herself. After going back and forth for a few minutes longer I wished her the best. She thanked me and said that she was going to need time before she had _really_ moved on, but was going to work on it and that she probably wasn't going to see Mary and I for a while." His eyes turned to the car. "I thought that she just meant she was going to avoid us around town, but I guess she might have meant she was leaving town entirely."

"What time was the call?"

James shrugged. "Around 6:30, I think. Hang on." He dug his cell out of his pocket and went to his calls list; it was the second one on the list being the last one made or received before he called Mary. "6:23 last night." He turned the screen to show her.

Emma accepted the phone, looking at the number, time and length of the call before closing the phone and handing it back to him.

They both turned as they heard Mary's car pull up behind the cruiser; James turned back to Emma.

"Anything else?"

She shook her head. "No, not right now. Can you handle things at the station while I deal with this?"

"Sure," he nodded. "See you later." He turned and headed for Mary's car.

Emma watched her deputy walk away and climb into her roommate's vehicle, feeling like she was somehow betraying him by having to treat him as a potential suspect.

* * *

><p>"Hey," James greeted his wife as he climbed into the passenger seat, leaning over and kissing her, allowing himself a moment just to feel the reassuring press of her lips to his–proving that she was safe and next to him–before sitting back to close the door and buckle his seatbelt.<p>

"Are you ok?" Mary's hand reached over to cover one of his, looking at him with obvious concern coloring her expression.

Flipping his hand over, he twined his fingers with hers. "I'm fine." He lifted their joined hands to kiss the back of hers. "Just worried about Kathryn."

Her eyes cast out the windshield in the direction of their daughter before turning back to him, brow still furrowed. "Are you a suspect?"

"No." He emphasized the word as reassuringly as possible with a shake of his head. "We can't even declare her legally missing since it hasn't yet been 24 hours. I just can't work the case since I technically have a conflict of interest, being her ex."

She didn't appear entirely mollified, but nodded and reluctantly released his hand to shift the car into drive and pull away.

James kept his eyes on Kathryn's car until they'd U-turned back toward town, begging any deity that might be listening in this cursed place for her to be all right.

"_John_!"

His head snapped around to Mary. "Sorry?"

She gazed at him with concern. "I called you three times."

James had been having a harder and harder time remembering to react to the name "John" the longer that he had his memories.

"I'm sorry, I was lost in thought, worrying about Kathryn." While he might not be able to tell anyone the whole truth, at least with his family he didn't lie.

"You don't believe that she got a ride with a passing car." It wasn't a question.

James rubbed a hand over his face. "Honestly…no. And I'm concerned." He turned his head to look at Mary, seeing her face creased with worry he reached a hand over to gently rub the back of her neck. "Hey." She glanced at him, letting him know he had her attention. "We'll figure this out and Kathryn's gonna be all right."

Mary removed one hand from the steering wheel and reached up to take hold of his, bringing them to rest on the seat between them. "I know." She cast him a small smile.

He stroked his thumb over her knuckles. "Do you have time for breakfast at Granny's before going to volunteer?"

"Actually, I was planning on making something at home."

A broad grin spread across his face. "Even better."

* * *

><p>"So," James was cracking eggs into the bowl of pancake batter, "what exactly <em>is<em> this 'Miner's Day?'"

Mary glanced at him with surprise, squeezing some fresh orange juice, but then realization chased across her face. "I keep forgetting about your amnesia." She blushed.

He was glad that she'd looked down because he flinched at her words before managing a wry grin. "Yeah, I think others do as well sometimes." He reached over to squeeze her hand, drawing her attention to him again. "But I actually like it better that way, it means people are treating me less carefully."

Mary flipped her hand over to squeeze his back, then they returned to their respective tasks and she explained the "history" of Miner's Day. James couldn't help but be continually shocked at how intricate and expansive the curse really was, he shuddered to think what the cost would be for it, because as Rumplestiltskin was so fond of reminding them all: All magic comes with a price…

James enjoyed doing just about _anything_ with his wife, but cooking with her like this was particularly pleasant. It brought up warm, fond memories of late nights in the castle where they would sneak off into the kitchens or meals when they'd laughingly chase the staff out to cook for themselves and to enjoy a quiet meal with just the two of them. Blissful moments when his wife wasn't actively worrying about her stepmother's threat.

He leaned back against the island, watching Mary cook the pancakes at the stove, a grin quirking his lips.

"Is there a particular reason you're watching me so closely?" Humor threaded her voice and pink tinged her cheeks.

The grin widened on his face. "Just enjoying being with you."

She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. "Well, that's quite a _charming_ thing to say," she teased.

He wasn't sure he could grin any more broadly. "I try."

A giggle escaped her, sending an affectionate warmth blooming through James, as she turned back to making breakfast.

He watched her like that for a moment longer before moving behind her to wrap his arms around her waist and pressing a kiss to the side of her neck. "I love you," he murmured against her skin.

She turned her head to meet his gaze, eyes soft; her hand rose to ghost over the scar on his chin, _her_ scar, though she didn't remember it. "I love you too," she returned quietly, smiling at him.

They gazed at each other for several heartbeats, and then they leaned in at the same time for a sweet kiss. Once they pulled apart, James unwrapped his arms, hands settling momentarily on her hips and giving a gentle, affectionate squeeze, before kissing her cheek and letting go. "I'll get the plates."

"Can you set one out for Emma as well? I want to leave her some food."

He had turned so that his back was to her while getting the plates, and had to grin at the mothering tone of her voice, unable to squash the amusement at how she was acting like a mom to their daughter without even _knowing_ their real relationship. "Of course."

* * *

><p>After breakfast, James went to the station and switched the call forwarding from Emma's cell to his; he then headed to Granny's, chess set tucked under his arm.<p>

Walking into the diner several heads turned in his direction, some casting him dirty looks, others quickly looking away; a few bending back together to whisper. James gave a mental roll of his eyes, heading over to his habitual booth and sitting down.

Ruby was there immediately, giving him a wry smile as she asked, "Coffee or hot chocolate?"

He gave her a half-grin in return. "Hot chocolate; make it two, please."

"You got it."

James placed the chess set on the table and began setting up the pieces.

"John!"

He was already grinning when he looked up to see his grandson sliding into the booth across from him. "Hey, Henry."

The child looked down at the game board. "Are you waiting for Sean?"

"Nope," he easily countered, setting the last piece into its place and then resting his crossed arms on the table. "For you. Feel up to a game?"

"Yeah!" the boy enthused, shoving his backpack into the corner of the booth and eyeing the board eagerly.

"Here we are," Ruby had returned and was setting the drinks down, one in front of each of them, "two hot chocolates with whipped cream and cinnamon."

Henry looked up at his grandfather. "How did you know I was coming?"

James flashed him a grin. "How many other places do you go on the weekend?" he teased.

After a moment's thought the boy shrugged, taking a sip of the cocoa before looking back at the game. "I'm white, so…I go first, right?" He looked to James for confirmation.

He smiled proudly at his grandson. "That's right." He watched the boy move a pawn forward; he loved these games with Henry, the chance to spend time with his grandson and learn more about him. The first time he saw Henry again after regaining his memories James had been nearly a wreck. When Henry had hugged him James had to force himself to release his grandson at a reasonable point and it was even harder for him not to stare too obviously at his grandson; he was so distracted he'd actually almost lost a chess game to the boy. Seeing his grandson still caused his heart to squeeze with love for the child and ache at the thought of him being trapped with that witch.

"So," James began after they had played a few moves, "how's Operation Cobra going?"

Henry shrugged, looking a little discouraged. "Not too good." He perked up looking back at his grandfather. "Have you started remembering anything?"

"Umm…" _Damn._ James shouldn't have brought up Operation Cobra to him. He couldn't lie to his grandson. He _wouldn't_. But he wasn't sure how to tell Henry about him remembering because the boy would want to tell Emma, whom James knew didn't believe, and it would hurt Henry deeply to find that out.

"Hey!"

James let out a breath in a whoosh, smiling quite happily up at his daughter as she slid into the booth, grateful for the interruption. "Hey, did you find Kathryn?"

The blonde pressed her lips together, shaking her head. "No, not yet, but as I said, it hasn't been 24 hours."

He managed a tight smile before putting Henry into check, trying not to let on just how disturbed he was by the situation.

There was a clearing of a throat that drew most people's attention to the door where Mary stood with a clipboard in her hands. She gave a little speech, asking for volunteers for Miner's Day, upon finishing just about everyone in the diner turned their backs on her coldly, dismissively.

James clenched his jaw.

Grumpy–_Leroy, _James mentally corrected himself–walked toward Mary; she eagerly asked if he wanted to volunteer. James couldn't hear his response but whatever the janitor said to her brought a stricken look to her face and as he brushed past her, tears welled in her eyes. Anger boiled James' blood, he couldn't believe that one of Snow's dearest and closest friends would say something to cause such hurt to color her expression.

He quickly rose to his feet, about to go after Mary who had spun on her heel and scurried out the door, however Emma had already stood. "I have it, John; you stay here."

He wanted to tell his daughter that he could handle it, that this was his wife and that he was the one who should be comforting her, but Emma was already out the door. His hands clenched convulsively around the lip of the table.

"John?" Henry's quiet, innocent voice drew his attention to the little boy staring up at him with wide confused eyes. "Why did they ignore Ms. Blanchard?"

James pressed his lips together, forcing himself to sit back down; he opened his mouth, but closed it again, not sure that he could give his grandson an appropriate response with the fury roiling through him.

"Because people are narrow-minded, petty and cruel sometimes."

They both looked up at the sharp answer.

Ruby stood beside them, frowning worriedly in the direction that Mary and Emma had gone.

"Why?" the child asked again, brow furrowed with confusion. "I mean, she's one of the nicest people in town."

Both adults smiled at him.

"No argument there, kiddo," the waitress agreed, a sad smile twisting her lips. "But sometimes people need to tear others down to feel better about themselves."

Henry frowned. "Like bullies?"

"Yes, Henry," James had finally mastered his anger enough to speak rationally, "like bullies."

His grandson stared down at the table thoughtfully.

"John." He turned at Ruby's voice. "Could you let Mary know that I'd volunteer if I could, but I can't?"

"Why not?"

She waved her hands around them at the full diner. "Miner's Day is one of our busiest days of the year."

He gave her an understanding smile. "I'll let her know." He nodded to her gratefully. "Thank you."

"Hey!" They both turned at Henry's bright cry, his face was lit with a smile. "Maybe I can make Ms. Blanchard a card and we can all sign it, to show her that we don't agree with the bullies!"

James reached over and ruffled the boy's hair. "That's a great idea, Henry; she'd really like that."

"I'll sign it." Ruby raised a hand, grinning.

"Great!" the boy cried enthusiastically, reaching into his backpack and pulling out paper and markers. He was soon hard at work drawing and writing.

James glanced up at the waitress, the pair of friends sharing a smile over the child's enthusiasm, while James began putting the chess set away and Ruby headed back to work.

Just before he put the last piece away, a white knight, James paused, staring at the horse figurine thoughtfully. "Hey, Henry," he began after a beat.

"Hmm?" his grandson inquired, not looking up from his work.

"How would you feel about me giving that card to Mary with a gift I have in mind?"

The child looked up inquisitively. "What's the gift?"

James leaned closer to him across the table with a grin. "It's very special and a surprise."

Henry's eyes lit up. "What is it?"

The man reached across the table to tweak his grandson's nose. "If I told you it wouldn't be a surprise, now would it? I'll show it to you after I get it. It's something I've had my eye on for months for her; I promise that she'll like it."

He obviously wanted to press James to tell him what the gift was, but the boy finally nodded eagerly. "Yeah, that's a great idea!"

With a grin James stood. "Great. I'll be back in a bit. You keep working on that card."

* * *

><p>"<em>Mr. Gold's Pawn Shop."<em>

James stared at the gilded lettering on the front window of the shop, his lips pressed into a thin line. He really didn't want to have to deal with Rumplestiltskin, but he wanted the mobile back. It belonged to his family and was very precious to him and Snow; he was also hoping that it might help in the process of getting her to remember. But what might the damned imp try to extort from him in exchange?

Finally he set his jaw and opened the door, the bell softly ringing.

Rumplestiltskin was already standing behind one of the counters. "Deputy," he said with what on the surface appeared to be a pleasant smile, but the prince could see the sly look in the other man's eyes. The shopkeeper set down the book whose binding he'd been inspecting. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

James met the imp's gaze head on, unwavering. "I'm here to buy the mobile." He tilted his head to indicate it, not taking his eyes from Rumplestiltskin's.

"Ah," a crafty gleam entered the shorter man's eyes, "I'd been wondering when you'd be back for that." He limped with an easy gait to the desired item, a smirk now gracing his lips. "As I said months ago, quite a lovely piece of master-craftsmanship."

The prince marked the other man's movements, coming to stand beside the delicate piece of artwork; across the counter from Rumplestiltskin. "What do you want for it?" He had no desire to play games with this man.

"Oh," Rumplestiltskin gave a short, false laugh, glancing away for a moment before looking back at James. "I'd be happy to sell it to you…"

James waited for the other shoe to predictably drop.

The imp, obviously reading the taller man's expression, continued, "On one condition."

"What?" The prince's tone was short.

Rumplestiltskin smirked. "Just a small thing." He leaned over on his forearms on the counter. "What's your name?"

James kept his expression neutral, but he decided since they both already knew that the other remembered to give the slightest bit. "Which one do you want? My real name; my chosen, fake name; what every _thinks_ is my name; the one that became mine…?" he asked dryly.

The smirk grew by degrees on the shorter man's expression; he straightened up. "That's enough. I just wanted to hear you admit to it." He named a price that was perhaps a touch high, but not unreasonable and goodness knew James was willing to pay a great deal for the mobile with how precious it was to him and Snow.

Rumplestiltskin placed it carefully in a box and handed it to the prince. "Quite the _charming_ gift. Perfect for a _charming_ baby…"

Fury flashed into James' eyes at the implication, hands fisting nearly tight enough for his nails to break the skin of his palms.

_Oh, how badly he wanted to beat the imp!_

Instead, in a herculean effort, he forced himself to turn and stalk out of the store. Why, when he hadn't given the imp anything he didn't already know, did James feel like Rumplestilskin had gotten a lot more from him than it seemed?

_Gods, he _hated _dealing with the damn imp!_

* * *

><p>When James returned to Granny's he found Henry sitting at the counter with the proprietress and her granddaughter signing the card he'd made.<p>

"Hey, Henry," he greeted the boy, taking the stool beside him.

"John!" the child returned eagerly. "Did you get the gift?"

He set the box on the counter. "Yes, I did." He patted the lid with his hand.

"Well," Ruby leaned against the counter, smirking, "let's see it."

James gave her a smirk in return, lifting the lid. His hands brushed the tissue paper aside, fingers curled around the hook and gently lifted the mobile from the package, delicately untwisting the figurines that got tangled in the process.

"Oh!" Ruby gasped, eyes wide. She reached out a finger to graze the neck of one of the unicorns. "It's beautiful."

Henry's jaw had dropped at the sight of the mobile, but then a huge grin spread across his face. "She'll _love_ it!"

He slowly lowered the gift back into the box. "Good to hear."

The waitress cocked her head to the side. "Where'd you get it?"

"Gold's." James put the lid back on. "I saw it just before Christmas and thought that Mary might like it but the timing…" he trailed off, eyes going to Snow's friend with a meaningful look.

The young woman nodded, understanding alight in her gaze. "Well, I agree that Mary'll love it…though," she cocked an eyebrow, "is it going to be getting use some time soon?"

The prince raised an eyebrow in return, masking the hopeful and longing jolt that surged through him at the thought of having a child with Snow again behind a droll look. "No." An ache ran through his heart at the denial.

Ruby smirked. "Not _yet_."

He wasn't going to deny _that_, he and Mary certainly hadn't been celibate since Valentine's Day; though Mary was taking birth control pills, they weren't really taking any other measures. He decided to say nothing for the moment, which just had Ruby smirking even wider.

* * *

><p>James was sitting at his desk in the station when the lights abruptly went off.<p>

"What's going on?" he called out to Emma, who was in her office.

"Not sure," she responded; a flashlight clicked on over her desk.

He bent down, feeling along the side of the desk until his hand found the right drawer and pulled it open, reaching in for his own flashlight and turning it on as well. He then headed for Emma's office, stopping in the door as she was flipping through a binder of numbers. "Want me to get the generator going?"

She looked up from where she'd started punching one of the numbers she needed to call for loss of power into her cell. "Yeah, thanks; I gotta make these calls."

Between the two of them they got the generator up and running, inquiries off to the power company and fielded upset/worried calls from townspeople. After about two hours of near-non-stop complaints from citizens without power the calls finally began to taper off and things once again quieted down.

James stood in the doorway of Emma's office, watching her for a beat before speaking. "Anything from Kathryn?"

His daughter went very still, staring rather fixedly at her desk and clicking the pen in her hand. "No," she finally admitted.

He nodded slowly. "What now?"

With a deep breath Emma set the pen down. "It's been 24 hours, so she is now officially a missing person." Her eyes lifted to his, disquiet clear in her gaze. "I may have to ask you some more questions."

James crossed his arms. "Do I need to get a lawyer?"

She pressed her lips together. "That would be my recommendation." One of her hands clenched on the desk. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He shook his head. "Just do your job." He straightened from where he'd been leaning on the doorjam. "I'm gonna go meet Mary at the festival."

"All right." She picked the pen back up. "I'll be home later."

"Right." He stood there a moment longer. _Gods, he hated how stilted things were with his daughter!_ Finally he turned and walked out, card in hand and mobile in its box under his arm.

He was quite surprised at the sight that greeted him in the square. The stores were all dark and the lights that had been strung around the square were extinguished, but candles were lit all through the crowd of people, each carrying one. A grin was pulling at his lips at recognizing the very candles Mary had been fretting about being unable to sell just earlier that day.

"Hey, Deputy."

He turned at the familiar gruff voice, frowning at the man who approached him. "Leroy. How can I help you?" He kept his tone neutral; even though he was still upset with the man for his cruel comments to Mary but at the same time he had come back around and helped her so much.

The shorter man stuffed his hands into his coat pockets uncomfortably. "Ruby said that you had a card for Mary?"

A single eyebrow rose. "Yes," the prince confirmed.

With a halting shrug Leroy asked, "Mind if I sign it?"

The other eyebrow joined the first near his hairline. "Sure…" He slowly pulled out the card and handed it to the other man who took out a pencil from his shirt pocket and used a near-by table to sign the card.

"Thanks," James accepted the card back after Leroy finished scrawling his name inside.

"Hey!"

The prince turned again at the dwarf's call.

"Never take what you got for granted," Leroy told him seriously. "You don't know just how lucky you are."

The corner of James' lips lifted. "Yes, I do."

The shorter man looked at him searchingly for a moment but eventually nodded, seeming to see the truth of the statement in James' eyes. "See ya." He walked off.

A grin slowly spread across James' face as he watched the other man leave. _That_ was the Grumpy he knew. Once he lost sight of his friend in the crowd he headed over to the candle stand where Mary was setting out a little sign that read "Sold Out."

"I thought that you said you weren't going to sell _any_ candles?"

Her head lifted at his humor-infused voice; she grinned and spread her arms in an encompassing gesture at the dark town. "We had a little help."

"So I see. Ready to head home?"

"Definitely." She nodded, leaning over and blowing out the lone lit candle on the stand and then moving around it to accept his proffered elbow, free hand curling around it.

The position was so familiar, the sensation of her small hand tucked into his arm so achingly pleasant to have again.

Mary directed them to her car, but stopped before even sticking her key in the lock. James looked at her inquiringly over the roof of the car, but could see her attention riveted on the driver's side window. _No, not the window,_ he corrected himself mentally. He, Sean, Ashley and Ruby had worked hard to try and clean off the graffiti but there were lingering streaks of the red paint and the word "tramp" was still legible.

"It's a nice night, how 'bout we walk home?" he suggested.

Her gaze lifted to his; James gave her gentle smile, prompting a soft one to spread across her own face. "That sounds perfect." She came back around the vehicle and accepted his arm again, leaning her cheek against his jacket sleeve for a moment.

"Mary Margaret!"

The couple turned at the sweet voice; a young brunette nun came jogging up to them.

"Astrid," Mary greeted the other woman warmly.

"I already thanked Leroy and I just wanted to tell you thank you so much as well." Her words came out in a rush, almost stumbling over each other. "I just can't thank you enough for selling all the candles, you both really saved the day."

James' eyes went to his wife who was blushing and smiling at the other woman fondly. "I was happy to help."

The nun looked down and noticed the candle in Mary's hand. "Oh, your candle's out!" She reached out, eagerly taking it from her. "Here, let me light it again." She tilted Mary's candle over hers to use the flame to light the extinguished one; this done she held it out to the teacher with a bright grin. "Here you are."

Mary blinked rapidly a few times before reaching out and accepting it back with a small, genuine smile. "Thank you."

Astrid grinned back at her. "You're welcome." She began turning back toward the other sisters. "Have a good night!" she called to the couple.

James continued to watch his wife, seeing how touched she was by the simple, sweet gesture of Astrid lighting her candle. He pressed his lips to her temple, finally drawing her attention to him with a slightly watery smile.

"Ready?"

She nodded. "Mm hmm." Her head rested against his shoulder again as they began heading leisurely down the street.

The apartment was predictably empty since Emma was still at the station, and dark from the power being off. Mary set the candle down on the island in the kitchen while they took off their coats and began pulling out candles to light. As they did so she finally noticed the box and card he was carrying. "What are those?"

James glanced down at the two items and then looked back up at her with a grin. "They're for you."

"Me? What for?"

Shrugging, he led her over to the couch. "Henry saw how upset you were at Granny's and he wanted to do something to cheer you up so he decided to make you a card." He handed her the card.

Mary's eyes had welled with happy tears again as she admired the drawings and sentiments in the card. "This is so sweet."

James reached out to brush her bangs aside. "He had several of your friends sign it as well."

She looked back up at him again, grinning through the tears in her eyes. "It's wonderful; I'll have to thank them tomorrow." After she blinked a couple of times she turned her attention to the box still in his lap. "What's that?"

He shifted the gift to her lap. "This is something I've had my eye on for you since Christmas, but it didn't seem appropriate to give it to you then." He rested his arm along the back of the couch behind her, watching as she opened the lid and brushed the tissue paper aside, revealing the mobile with a gasp.

"John…"

James reached out for the hook and lifted it out of the box so that she could see it properly.

She gazed at it wonderingly for several moments before exactly what the item was began to register and she bit her lip and turned her eyes to his, trying not to possibly overreact if his reasoning for the gift was innocent. "A _child's_ mobile?" Her face became a bit red and anxiety increasingly filled her eyes. "John…"

The fingers of his free hand brushed over her cheek, immediately working to soothe her apprehension. "It's meant to be just a gift, Mary. Something I thought you'd like. But I won't deny what I hope to happen someday. That I'm planning on forever with you."

Relieved, and yet somehow a touch disappointed–which she endeavored to ignore–her hand rose to trace the scar on his chin with a soft smile. "I love it." She kissed him sweetly before looking back at the mobile. She reached out and let her fingers brush gently through the dangling figurines.

"_Oh, Charming!" A delighted smile was bright on her face as she gazed at the beautiful glass unicorns hanging above the crib; her eyes turned to him where he stood grinning a few feet away._

"_You like it?"_

"_It's beautiful!" she told him, as if there could be any doubt that she loved it. She turned back to the crib and reached out to let her hand trail through the hanging unicorns, sending the figurines gently swinging. She could see their child standing on unsteady legs in the crib, clinging to the side and batting the unicorns with tiny, inquisitive hands. Her palm came to rest lovingly atop her rounded stomach; she smiled down at the sight of her engagement and wedding rings flashing in the sunlight over where their child was growing in her womb._

Mary blinked rapidly, rubbing a hand over her eyes.

"Mary?"

She looked up at John's concerned voice. He'd lowered the mobile to rest on the coffee table and was running worried hands over her cheeks and arms, eyes gazing into hers searchingly.

Mary caught one of his hands with a smile. "I'm all right." She shook her head a bit ruefully. "I'm probably just overtired with everything that's happened today."

Cupping the back of her neck, John drew her forward to kiss her forehead. "Well, we'd better get you to bed," he urged gently.

"Mm…" she confirmed before standing, drawing him with her, not asking if he was staying, not even thinking about doing so.

Joy swelled in James; not only because the fact that his staying with her wasn't even a question anymore, but because of the look in Mary's eyes in that moment as she stared at the mobile gave him all the more hope for her memories returning soon.

Curled into John's side in bed Mary's mind refused to quiet down. The vision–hallucination–whatever it was still strong in her mind and heart. She thought that it might have been a memory of a dream resurfacing, or perhaps her own desires for her future with John mixing with Henry's fairy tale ramblings. Her eyes gazed at the ring circling her right middle finger, resting atop John's chest, watching it slowly rise and fall with his deep breaths. She supposed it wasn't too odd that she'd imagined that ring as her engagement ring; she'd _always_ had it, but for some reason it'd felt more right to wear it on her left hand encircling her ring finger, and that _was_ a bit confusing. Though, as she finally began to drift off, what really felt strange was that a woman who had never had a child could so easily and vividly imagine how it would feel to carry a baby inside her…

* * *

><p>Soooooooo, my dearies, what do you think? Worth the wait? O.O I hope that you enjoyed the chapter! Now I must scurry off to work on the next chapter of <strong>Once Upon a Time…and Again<strong> before my readers of that story come after me with pitchforks and torches… XD ;-P


	23. Intertwining

I'm REALLY sorry guys for it taking so long now for updates! _ The muse wasn't particularly cooperative on this chapter for quite a while… I actually had a better idea of how the next chapter is going to go before I knew how this one was! Anyway. I hope you guys like it! :-D Thank you so much for all of the reviews, tweets, faves, likes and alerts; the encouragement you guys give me is was helps me keep writing and posting! :-D

EDIT 07/11/12: I'm sorry about the missing passage markers! _ I forgot to put them back in after took them out!

**Sassy18**, sweetie, forever and ever, THANK YOU! Glad both of our muses eventually found their stumbling ways back! XD

* * *

><p><strong>Intertwining<strong>

James held the door to Granny's open for Mary, placing a guiding hand on the small of her back as he followed her inside. The low din that had been buzzing in the diner just before they entered silenced at their appearance.

Ruby scowled at the whole crowd before striding over to them determinedly. "Can I get drinks started for you guys?" She had an intentionally bright grin on her face, trying to make a point with the other customers.

The deputy gave her a small, grateful smile. "Two," he glanced at Mary to check and at her nod continued, "hot chocolates, please."

"Two hot cocoas with cinnamon coming right up," the waitress chirped before sashaying off to the kitchen.

Pointedly ignoring the rubberneckers, James again rested his hand on the small of his wife's back and led her over to their usual booth.

"I guess the town isn't quite over me being the harlot and home wrecker," she murmured jokingly to him.

He shook his head and muttered, "No, it's not you they're staring at." At her inquiring glance he continued, "It's the possibly homicidal ex-husband you're sitting next to."

Mary's eyes went wide as saucers. "No!" she cried, but then lowered her voice again. "They can't _possibly_ believe _that_!"

Squeezing her hand in affectionate gratitude at her absolute faith that he'd never hurt Kathryn/Abigail, James cast her a wry grin. "Perhaps, but it makes for interesting gossip, especially in such a small town."

Her fingers tangled with his. "Well, we can be the village outcasts together," she quietly joked.

Grinning, he lifted their clasped hands to kiss the back of hers. "I kinda like that idea."

"Here we are." They both looked up as Ruby placed their drinks in front of them, thanking her for more than just the cocoas. Their friend took down their dinner orders and headed off to put it in with the cook.

"Has Emma said anything about Kathryn's disappearance?" Mary's eyes shone with concern, both for him and the missing woman.

James smoothed his thumb over her knuckles, shaking his head. "No. She's still missing, but Emma has to keep me pretty much out of the loop beyond that."

She bit her lower lip so hard that he worried she'd hurt herself, so he reached over and ran his thumb just below her lip. "Careful," he gently warned.

Her eyes turned to him in surprised confusion.

He tapped her lower lip with his finger, now that it had been released from her teeth. "Bite your lip much harder and it'll bleed," he explained teasingly, but concern colored his tone.

With a small smile Mary leaned in and kissed him softly. "I'm just worried about Kathryn."

James brushed his fingers across her furrowed brow and then draped his arm along her shoulders. "I know." He pressed his lips to her temple. "And I love you all the more for it."

His eyes cut to the rest of the room where people kept shooting dark looks in his direction before leaning closer to whisper; he rolled his eyes. "I'm just wondering when people are going to start demanding I either resign or that Emma fire me."

"They can't do that, can they?" Concern creased her forehead.

He shrugged. "My position is by appointment of the sheriff; I'm not elected. They, or Regina, can basically put me and/or Emma in a position where there is little to no other choice."

Mary Margaret's fingers tightened around his, her eyes focused on the table top. "I know she feels threatened by Emma but I just don't understand why she seems to hate you and me so much, even before everything with Kathryn…"

Blue eyes stared out the window over her head, jaw tight.

"_She blames _me _for ruining her life."_

"_Did you?"_

"…_Yes."_

Snow's tone had been so resigned, a simple statement of fact, without excuses; complete acceptance of the blame. She had accepted her stepmother's loss of her true love as her fault, taking an adult's weight of blame for the actions of an innocent child, who only wanted to help a woman she loved and looked up to.

"Some people just need someone to hate." His voice was low, consciously keeping the fury out of his tone.

Her head came to rest against his shoulder. "That's so sad." Compassion colored her soft words.

A small smile curled his lips. Of course that would be her view of it. "Yes, it is."

Ruby glided over to their table, setting their plates down in front of them, accepting their "thank yous" with a grin before striding over to August Booth's table.

The couple kept their heads bent close together, speaking quietly and laughing over their meals and, in spite of all the glaring onlookers, enjoying their date.

"You know…" Mary was biting her lip again when James turned his gaze to her; her eyes cut to his a bit shyly. "I've been thinking about how…how ridiculous it is for you to still be living at Granny's when you haven't slept here in weeks."

His heart leapt, however James managed to keep most of the eagerness out of his expression, but his eyes still shone with anticipation and love. "You're right… What do you suggest?"

Emboldened by his expression, his wife grinned at him. "I was thinking you could move in with me."

He reached for her hand on the table, knotting their fingers together. "I would like that more than anything. But will Emma be all right with that?"

Mary laughed softly. "I asked her a couple of days ago and her input was, 'He spends enough time here that he probably should be paying rent anyway.'" Humor glittered in her eyes, expression telling James that his daughter had given the answer in her usual sardonic way.

He played gently with her fingers. "I'm more worried about how she'll feel because of my involvement with Kathryn's case."

A grin spread across her face. "I believe she called it 'the separation of work and home' or something to that effect." Her thumb ran over the back of his hand. "She's all right with it."

"Well," he lifted their joined hands to kiss hers, "I guess I'll start moving my things tomorrow."

Her fingers tightened around James', smile even brighter. "Good."

"I _quit_!"

Both of their heads whipped around at Ruby's shout, looking up just in time to see her toss aside her apron before storming out the door and slamming it behind her. Their eyes went to Granny who stood behind the counter, hands planted on her hips, glaring at the door through which her granddaughter had just left, though James knew her well enough to detect the pain underneath her frustration.

Mary's eyes turned back to him, wide with shock. "What on Earth was _that_ about?"

A concerned frown creased his face. "I'm not sure."

They were both _very_ curious about Ruby's abrupt exit and declaration, but also equally aware of Granny's veiled pain and considerate enough to say nothing when they paid the bill.

They bumped into Emma just outside the Sheriff's office about to head home.

"Hey." She grinned at them, stuffing her keys in her coat pocket.

They greeted her warmly in return.

Their daughter had her hands buried in her pockets to keep warm. "Heading to the apartment?"

"Yes, want to join us?" Mary smiled brightly at her roommate.

Emma shrugged as she fell in step with them. "As long as you two don't mind."

"You mean as long as we don't get too couple-y," James countered, grinning.

The blonde threw him a droll look. "You said it, not me."

He chuckled softly.

"So has Mary told you she wants you to move in and live in sin with her?" his daughter inquired amusedly.

"Emma!" The teacher looked torn between laughing and blushing a red that would likely rival a tomato.

James gave Emma a look, just barely restraining himself from correcting her about how they _wouldn't _be living in sin; she just cocked an unrepentant eyebrow. "Yes, she did and I agreed."

"Ruby!"

Mary's call drew the attention of the fair-headed pair.

The waitress was waiting at the bus stop and at the moment being likely propositioned by the town letch, Dr. Whale. They both turned at the trio's approach, Ruby amusedly and Whale looking like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. At Mary and Emma's pointed, level looks and James' sharp glare–he didn't want _that_ man anywhere near _any_ woman, much less one he cared about–he mumbled some lame excuse and scurried off.

"Was he bothering you?"

James was proud of the protective note in his daughter's voice.

"Nah." Ruby shrugged off the incident carelessly. "The day I can't handle a letch is the day I leave town…which this is, I guess." She kept her tone light but with the last five words tears had begun to gather in her eyes and a strain entered her voice.

Fear caught the prince's breath in his chest.

"You're leaving?" Mary was in shock.

"I had a fight with Granny," the younger woman almost managed to sound as glib as she wanted to. "Quit my job."

"We heard," James stated carefully as he and Mary glanced at each other.

"We weren't sure though…" his wife's voice trailed off.

"That I meant it?" Ruby supplied. "Yeah, I did." Her voice wasn't nearly as resolute as she wanted it to be.

The teacher's eyes lit with curiosity and interest. "Where you going?"

It took a couple of tries before the former waitress admitted, "I don't know… Away."

James swallowed back his worry and pointed out reasonably, "Well, buses out of town don't really happen."

Emma nodded in agreement as she gently but frankly recommended, "Yeah, you might want a destination first."

Ruby was truly at a loss, realizing they were right.

Mary couldn't stand seeing someone hurting and so lost so she did what she did best. She reached out.

"Hey, it you need a place to figure things out, you could always come home with us," she quickly offered.

The prince wasn't sure how he managed to hold back a laugh at the look Emma gave her mother and the one Mary gave her in return, making it clear that this wasn't up for debate.

"Y-y-yeah," the sheriff stammered in agreement at her roommate's expression. "Just for a little while."

The teacher stepped forward taking the other dark-haired woman's hand and saying, "Come on," as she began leading Ruby toward their apartment.

Emma cast a glare at her deputy. "Don't even."

He held his hands up in mock surrender, smirking. "I said nothing."

"You were thinking it."

When they arrived at home–how good it felt to James to be able to finally claim this place officially as home–Mary set about gathering spare pillows and blankets. "John, there should be a cot in the closet upstairs, could you bring it down?" The wording of it as a question was a mere polite formality, her tone clearly _telling_ him to retrieve the cot.

He hid a grin at seeing his take-charge wife make an appearance this evening. "Right away."

Emma helped their guest haul her luggage over to the sitting area where Mary was indicating they'd be setting up.

"I'm sorry we don't have a spare bed right now," the teacher apologized, shifting a chair aside to make room.

"No, this is great," their friend assured her, lending her own hands to help her two hosts rearrange the furniture.

"Emma?"

All of their heads lifted at the call from the upstairs.

"Yeah?" the blonde shouted to her deputy.

"Could you come give me a hand getting this down the stairs?" he asked.

Emma promptly straightened from pushing the couch and made her way to the stairs. "Coming!"

"I can't thank you enough for letting me stay here," Ruby told the teacher, the uncharacteristic vulnerability that had been in her eyes since they met her at the bus stop naked on her face.

Mary smiled at her, reaching over to squeeze her hand comfortingly. "We're happy to have you."

Her friend nodded, still forcing a smile. The teacher knew the younger woman needed to talk, but this wasn't the time for it. Ruby wasn't ready. So instead of pushing or questioning, Mary briefly tightened her fingers again in a gesture to try and convey that she was there.

A loud clatter on the stairs had them turning.

"Jeez, Mare!" One of Emma's heels was visible on the stairs from their position. "Whadja do? Buy the most cumbersome cot in existence?"

The two dark-haired women moved so that they stood at the foot of the stairs and could now see the sheriff and deputy struggling to maneuver the ungainly and uncooperative cot down the stairs.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, wincing as she watched their struggles. "I forgot how difficult that thing can be."

"Hey, Emma," James got her attention, "try tilting it a little to the left, I think that'll help."

"Your left or mine?"

"Yours."

After a few minutes more of grunts, shuffling, and a few half stifled curses–Emma's hand got wedged at one point between the side of the cot and the railing, and James banged his bad shoulder on one of the support beams–the temporary bed was finally set in the sitting area. After another apology to both her roommate and her lover Mary began arranging the sheets, blankets and pillows on the cot.

Emma blew a blond lock out of her face, using the back of her hand to brush it behind her ear as she headed to the kitchen to raid the fridge for dinner. "Have you eaten, Ruby?"

"Umm, no," she admitted.

"We have some leftover chicken parm, if you're interested." The sheriff's head reappeared from the fridge, aforementioned dish in hand.

"If it's not too much trouble." The waitress moved over to the island to help in dishing out portions for both of them.

"Emma," Mary called from where she was fluffing one of the pillows, "while you're over there could you get John an icepack for his shoulder?"

James cast a sheepish grin at his wife, who had obviously noticed the wince he'd tried to hide when he rotated his shoulder, and was now giving him a pointed look.

His daughter was smirking at him broadly when she tossed the icepack to him.

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Don't even," he quoted back to her.

"There," Mary announced upon finishing the temporary bed. "Will you be comfortable enough here, Ruby?"

"_More_ than, Mary Margaret," the waitress assured her, helping Emma reheat the chicken parmesan. "Thank you so much again."

"It's a pleasure, Ruby," she promised her. "I'm going to head to bed; it's been a long day."

"I'll do the same," James spoke up, rising from the stool he'd settled on and following her.

"You're _still_ keeping that ice on your shoulder for another twenty minutes," she firmly informed him, brooking no argument. "We don't need your shoulder swelling out of joint."

James cast a helpless grin over his shoulder at the other two women. Ruby snickered and Emma snorted.

"Yes, Ms. Blanchard," he mimicked her students, earning him a gentle swat to the chest.

* * *

><p><em>Her feet carried her swiftly through the halls and down flights of stairs into the shadowy dungeon, eyes searching for him. For her Charming.<em>

_There. Through the bars, finally she saw him._

"_Charming!" she cried out in happiness, a smile lighting her face._

_He turned his head at her voice._

"_Charming," she nearly laughed again, giddy with relief as she grabbed the keys._

"_Snow." She didn't register how his voice was thick with longing and regret._

_Her hands fumbled a bit as she struggled to unlock and open the door as quickly as possible; finally it swung free, breathtaking joy surging in her chest, more than ready to dive into her love's arms–_

_It all crashed down around her._

_A mirror._

_Her exultation shattered into utter anguish._

_She swallowed _hard_, hand reaching momentarily to touch the wall to help reorient herself as the world momentarily tilted around her. "You're…" she began, breaking off before dragging her feet forward, hands reaching for the mirror's frame. "No," she breathed, needing to touch the object to prove to herself that it truly _wasn't _ an illusion, crushing the last hope she had that maybe she was just seeing things because she was so overcome with relief…_

"_No!" She begged it not to be so, but she wasn't mistaken, her hands brushed along cold glass and rough wood, not her beloved Charming's warm flesh and strong heartbeat. "Oh, no!" Tears flooded her eyes, breath ragged with them._

_His brilliant blue eyes were full of such pain and yearning, drinking in every inch of her, like he hadn't seen her in a lifetime, which was how it felt. "The queen took me to her palace," he explained forlornly._

"_But I'm _rescuing _you…" she protested, half-sob, half-mirthless laugh._

_He gave a short pained chuckle of his own. "Snow," he breathed, hand lifting to press against the glass, as if he could reach through it and touch her, aching to comfort her._

_Her own palm rose to match his, so small in comparison; it was nowhere near enough, but it was all they had in this moment. "Is this _always_ going to be our life?" she asked wearily. "Taking turns _finding _each other?" Why couldn't they just be together? Why wouldn't the world just let them _be_?_

_He gave another sad laugh, before telling her with absolute certainty, "We'll be together, I _know_ it… Have faith," he pleaded._

_She wanted to tell him that she was _trying_ to, but it was becoming _so hard_._

_Smoke swallowed him and an evil cackle echoed through the dungeon._

Mary gasped awake, the malicious laughter still ringing in her ears, heart hammering against her ribcage.

A deep breath and shift against her side drew her attention, eyes snapping to John's slightly troubled face. His arms tightened about her, in sleep pulling her closer while he buried his nose in her hair, breathing deeply again and with the slightest curl of his lips his hold loosened a bit, seemingly appeased of whatever had bothered him.

Mary continued to gaze up at his familiar features, feeling the pain still lingering in her chest soothed by his presence, scent and warm body pressed to hers. Satisfied that the dream had been only that, she nestled her head back into the hollow of his shoulder and turned her thoughts to the dream itself.

The…flashes, delusions…whatever they were had been happening more and more frequently and lately she'd begun to have dreams like this one. The ever-rational part of her mind kept insisting that it was mostly just due in part to Henry and his constant talk of fairy tales, that her subconscious mind was just twining them and reality together. But another part of her mind seemed to give that argument an almost visibly droll look as it asked her how long she was going to remain in such stubborn denial.

Her eyes squeezed shut, she wondered if she should see Archie about this crazy dichotomy of her thoughts, but Emma's cautioning voice reminded her of how Regina seemed to have the therapist under her thumb. Mary had _no_ desire for the mayor to possibly hear that the fourth grade teacher–_Henry's_ teacher–was not only seeking professional psychological help but also maybe developing some kind of psychosis, or at least that's what the devious woman would twist it to be.

She thought about talking to Emma, but while she knew she could trust her friend _never_ to betray her confidence, she could also imagine the sheriff's almost pitying look.

Henry was too young and honestly would likely construe this as her "remembering" being Snow White.

The only person Mary believed she could tell without judgment, expectations or risk of exposure, the only person who would just listen, was John.

Sleep had begun tugging at her eyes again as they slowly lifted to his face, taking comfort in the soothing familiarity of him. She yawned widely, snuggling closer to him, a sleepy smile on her lips. Yes, she'd talk to John about this, out of everyone he'd probably understand best anyway after his coma and amnesia.

* * *

><p>Snow kissing a teasing path up his chest drew James into the waking world. A grin curled his mouth as her lips made their way up his neck, along his jaw, pausing at the scar lingeringly, before settling over his own. His hands circled her waist; he sleepily moaned into the kiss. "Snow."<p>

She stilled and pulled back slightly. "It's a little late in the year for snow."

He mentally cursed himself as every kind of idiot he knew as he was jolted fully awake. James carefully kept some lethargy in his voice, "Hmm?" He slowly opened his eyes, gazing at her questioningly.

There was a strange look in her eyes. "You said 'snow,' and it's rather late for there to be snow…"

He frowned thoughtfully–inwardly hating himself for deliberately misleading the woman he loved–hands running over her sides. "I think I was dreaming about Snow. That must be why I said that." He was treading _very_ thin ice, technically not lying, but not really being truthful either, and _gods_ did he _hate_ it!

She gazed at him for several moments longer before a teasing smile slid across her face, pressing a kiss to his lips. "Well you're going to have to wait until next winter for more snow."

Goddess, he hoped _not_! "Hmm," he murmured into the kiss.

He quickly became distracted by her mouth moving to gently suck on the pulse point at his throat, mind quite happily deciding to let go of the slip for now and concentrate on getting his shirt off of her.

Mary was equally distracted by his stroking hands, but just before desire overtook her rational mind she filed away his saying "Snow" for examination…later.

* * *

><p>Later that afternoon James was sitting at his desk, going over reports, mostly just noise complaints from older neighbors against teenagers and college-aged kids next-door who were having too noisy late night parties and a couple from the president of the garden society against a few dog owners saying that their pooches had been digging in her beds. He looked up when Ruby came through the door and grinned at her but then the corners of his lips turned down and his brow furrowed in concern. Ever since Emma had offered Ruby a job helping out around the station Ruby had perked up considerably and seemed more confident, but the frown and depression from the night before had returned.<p>

The prince set down the folder in his hands and leaned forward as the young woman set the paper bag she was carrying down on a nearby desk. "Ruby, what's wrong?"

She forced a smile. "Nothing."

"No," he shook his head in firm, concerned emphasis, "that's not a 'nothing' face. You were so happy and excited just this morning, what's going on?"

Ruby's face crumpled with restrained tears as she leaned back against the desk, bracing her hands on the edge. "I can't be anything more than a waitress or a goffer."

James wasn't entirely sure why she'd call herself a little subterranean animal, but he also knew his wife's friend had a _great_ many skills and hated hearing her speak of herself so.

"I can't do anything special," she continued dejectedly, "I don't have any great abilities, like Emma or Mary Margaret or you. I'm not even as imaginative as Henry."

"Ruby that _is not_ true," he countered firmly. She opened her mouth to contradict him, but he held up a finger, forestalling her protests. "You have _many_ abilities and gifts."

She eyed him skeptically.

"Remember how you protected Ashley when she ran from Gold? And with all the cruelty against Mary? And just last night how you stood up to all those people's suspicions of me in the diner? When you stood out in the freezing cold, scrubbing off the graffiti on Mary's car?" One corner of his mouth lifted in a half-grin. "You are more fiercely loyal than most people could ever hope to be. You're braver than most people in this town combined."

"Braver?" Her tone was doubtful, but he could hear a hopeful note to it.

James nodded. "Many people care too much what people think of them to ever go against the general populace, but you do it _all the time_ for your friends. And that _is_ brave." He could see that he was getting through to her bit by bit, so he pressed on. "You help people, make them happy, put them at ease." He waved a hand at the phone. "The way you deal with people on the phone, often knowing what is needed and offering the advice and help right then; in certain situations better than Emma or I would. And that helps and comforts people more than you know."

A smile had lifted her expression, the confidence that had deserted her returning.

"Don't let others tell you you're deficient, that you aren't capable," he told her firmly, "because you are _more_ than able."

She nodded tentatively at first, but gradually with increased surety.

With a nod of his own, James moved back around the desk to sit once more. "You're strong, Ruby; a fighter. Always remember that." He bent his head back over the paperwork.

After a few moments of silence he heard a rustling of paper and then a to-go box was set down in front of him. He looked up at Ruby's smile.

"Thanks."

He grinned back. "Any time."

* * *

><p>"Thank you for the help with dinner, Ruby." Mary grinned at the younger woman over the chopping board where she was cutting up the vegetables for the stir-fry they'd decided to have.<p>

The former waitress gave the teacher a wry grin where she was working on the chicken. "Well, can't exactly let these kitchen skills go to waste."

Mary shook her head. "No, those are good to have no matter what you do or where you go in life. Speaking of, how was your first day at the station?"

Ruby's hands momentarily stilled and she tilted her head thoughtfully before a smile slowly spread across her face. "Good. Different from the diner, but I think different is what I need right now."

The elder woman nodded. "Change is good, adding variety helps."

A sly grin spread across Ruby's face. "Change like having a certain deputy move in." She nudged the teacher's shoulder teasingly.

Pink tinged her friend's cheeks, a smile gracing her lips. "Maybe." She tried to downplay the happiness in her tone, but when her eyes cut to Ruby she found her hazel irises full of knowing, teasing mirth. Laughter was soon spilling from them both.

Just as they were managing to get control of themselves the door swung open to admit John and Emma hauling his luggage.

"Speak of the devil," Ruby muttered to her friend, sending both into mad giggles again.

James and Emma stared at the pair who were bent over nearly double with their mirth.

He turned to his daughter inquiringly. "This is one of those times I probably don't want to know, isn't it?"

She smirked, setting the sports bag on her shoulder down. "I think this might be one case where _I _don't want to know."

"Right." He eyed his wife and her best friend.

Mary managed to swallow back most of her laughter and compose herself enough to go over to him. "Sorry, we were just talking and you walked in in the middle of the conversation…" She trailed off, a slightly sheepish but also amused smile crossed her face, pink tingeing her cheeks at his intent gaze, her fingers moving to twist her ring. "I'll show you where to put your things." She picked up the bag Emma had set down and took the second she was carrying, leading James to her room.

He cast a grin at his daughter and their friend before following his wife into her–_their_, he thrilled at being able to truly call the room theirs–room.

Mary helped him arrange the few remaining belongings he had that hadn't already taken up residence in their home or at the station into their proper places or found a place for them. Watching their possessions become cluttered, mixed and twined together sent joy rushing through his veins. He was reminded of their wedding night and when they began sharing quarters, how they had done the same thing, letting their belongings mingle together. He'd missed that, her things alongside his, his with hers. Their lives intertwined. As they were meant to be.

"You'll need to bring your extra clothing from the station, patrol car and your truck as well," she informed him over her shoulder as she folded one of his thermals into a drawer.

James cocked an eyebrow at her. "I need to keep some spare clothing for when I have to stay too late or they get too dirty."

"_One_," she held a firm finger up, eyes gazing at him levelly, "set in the station and _one_ in the truck."

His eyebrows rose at her no-argument tone. "I might need one or two more if I end up working more than a day."

She shook her head vigorously. "No, you will come home at least once a day no matter what to at _least_ change clothes. Preferably to sleep and eat breakfast and dinner as well."

A broad grin grew across his face at her stubborn insistence, seeing so much of Snow in Mary, and remembering a similar conversation shortly after their marriage. He cupped her jaw, thumb caressing her cheek. "I promise. I'll do my _very_ best to do that."

Her smile was radiant with a slightly teasing glint in her vibrant green eyes. "Good."

* * *

><p>The bell rang for lunch; Mary called out to her students not to run, though an indulgent smile was plain on her face, which grew into a wide grin as her favorite student scampered up to her desk.<p>

"Hey, Henry," she greeted.

"Hi, Ma-Ms. Blanchard." He was pretty good about not calling her by her first name around the other students, though he sometimes slipped up at school when it was just the two of them.

She was pulling out her lunch sack, preparing to set her food out on her desk. "Aren't you going to head out and eat with Nicholas and Ava?"

"Oh, yeah," he nodded his head vigorously, "but I wanted to ask you something first, if that's ok?"

"Of course it is," she assured her student with a grin.

Henry was nearly vibrating with repressed excitement, whatever it was Mary was quite intrigued. "Did John really move in with you and Emma?" It all came out in a rush.

Normally Mary might have turned a bright red at such a question, save for his utter innocence in asking it, not understanding the implications, probably simply thinking that such a thing boded well for "Operation Cobra." As it was the teacher just smiled at him quite happily. "Yes, he did. He'll be living with us now."

A blindingly bright grin spread across his face. "Awesome!" With that simple, single-word response he scurried out the door to catch up with his friends.

Mary shook her head amusedly at his boundless energy, enthusiasm and hopefulness. Such a remarkable and incredible child, she mused to herself, unwrapping her sandwich from the cellophane. She honestly couldn't imagine the world without him.

* * *

><p>Henry was practically skipping as he ran up to Ava and Nicholas–he'd decided it was best not to start thinking of them as Hansel and Gretel until the curse was broken and they remembered so that he didn't slip up. Things were starting to go great with Operation Cobra! Prince Charming was now living with Snow White and Emma! They <em>had<em> to start remembering soon with them all living together! And Emma couldn't have _any_ more doubts about the curse, and she could break it!

He talked excitedly with his two friends about _The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe_, which he'd just begun. Ava, who was borrowing _The Magician's Nephew_ looked even more eager to finish the book. Nicholas complained loudly about how long it was taking her to read it and how she needed to hurry up so that he could have it next.

The heads of teachers turned at the trio, still flummoxed at seeing the three most antisocial students laughing and chattering on together, even after all the months they'd been friends. With his teacher, biological mother and the deputy's influence Henry came out of his shell, and the twins blossomed living with their father, loved and cared for. Many changes had been wrought around town since Emma's arrival, not that they'd let the mayor hear them discussing it, but even with the hardships so much good had come over these months. They were all silently hoping that things would continue to improve as they had been doing so.

* * *

><p>Sunlight sparkled over the blue and clear unicorns slowly turning in front of Mary's bedroom window over her bed where she'd hung it for the moment. Part of her felt silly, sitting there, feet curled under her, back against the footboard; staring at the mobile overhead absolutely riveted like a small child. But she couldn't help being utterly enchanted by it; what's more it felt so familiar and comforting.<p>

"Hey."

She turned at John's voice behind her, a grin spreading across her face. "Hey!" Her eyes followed his movements as he walked toward her. "I didn't expect you home until later."

He shrugged, bending down to kiss her sweetly. "Aside from Kathryn's case there isn't much else going on in town, so I headed out early." His gaze turned to the mobile, a half smile quirking his lips as he settled on the bed beside her. "I'm glad you like the mobile."

Mary's eyes turned to it as she leaned into his side, head settling on his shoulder. "I do, it's beautiful."

James curved his arm around her shoulders, holding her closer still; they sat like that for several minutes watching the slowly fading light of the sun glisten off of the glass unicorns and beads.

Eventually Mary bit her lip, eyes turning to John, her fingers tracing nervous patterns across his chest. "John."

"Hmm?" He looked down at her.

She was focusing on her fingers which were plucking at one of the buttons on his shirt. "When you gave me that mobile you said that…you weren't going to deny what you hoped for someday…" Her green irises slowly lifted to his blue ones. "You really want children eventually?"

James grinned broadly. "Oh, yeah," he assured her, nodding. "With you, dozens."

Mary gave a half choked laugh. "I don't think I can do 'dozens.'"

"Hmm," his face dropped in faux disappointment. "Well, I suppose two or three would do."

His wife laughed into his chest. "Two or three I could do." She snuggled further into his side, arm wrapping around his middle.

"Sounds like a plan," he murmured into her hair, his free hand coming up to gently run up and down her upper arm.

There was barely enough light left from the setting sun to reach the glass ornament.

"I should probably get dinner started," Mary sighed, reluctant to leave John's warm, comfortable embrace.

"Want a hand?"

Her head tilted back to grin up at him. "Yes, I'm sure I have some vegetables for you to put together in a salad," she teased.

"Hey," he raised a finger, voice thick with mock offense, "I make a mean salad!"

Mary giggled at him, kissing him swiftly before forcing herself from the bed and dragging him by the hand behind her.

Dinner was actually fairly simple, cod that Mary cooked in lemon and dill, zucchini and squash that she let John steam.

While he was setting the table, she watched him, debating for a moment going through with telling him about her dreams and visions right then. Her fingers twisted her ring. "John?"

"Hmm?" His head lifted, blue eyes going to her.

Just as she opened her mouth to tell him the door opened; Mary snapped her mouth closed again.

James' eyebrows rose at his daughter's pale face and strained expression as she entered their home. She closed the door but made no move to approach them. She was distancing herself from them both physically and emotionally.

"Emma, what's wrong?"

At John's question Mary noticed how tense her roommate was and her obvious discomfort; the teacher's brow furrowed with worry. "Emma?"

Emma was forcing her hands to remain at her sides and not to fidget. "Some kids were hanging out by the river and they found something."

James took several steps closer to his wife and daughter. "What was it?"

Without her permission Emma's hands rose to clasp in front of her, fingers knotted tightly with nerves. "It was a box…with a human heart inside."

"Oh my…" Mary's voice trailed off as her legs gave out; thankfully there was a stool behind her, keeping her from hitting the floor.

James was standing behind her and rested a steadying hand on her shoulder, keeping her from possibly toppling off the seat. He swallowed thickly. "Kathryn?"

The blonde's lips pressed into a thin line. "I'm still waiting on the DNA test results, but there aren't any other missing persons…"

Mary's fingertips were pressed to her mouth, trying to restrain the cry that wanted to erupt from her.

"That's not all," their daughter continued, hands twisting together.

Their gazes were on her, both feeling a deep chill running through them.

Emma took a deep breath, bracing herself to tell the worse news. "There was a fingerprint inside the lid."

Mary's hand darted up to grip James' on her shoulder. "Emma–" she began in protest.

"It's yours, Mary Margaret," the sheriff quickly continued, pain obvious on her expression.

The dark-haired woman's jaw dropped open, eyes wide in absolute shock.

James felt his world drop out from under him, realizing where this was going, his fingers tightening convulsively around his wife's, as if that could ward off what was to come.

"Mary," Emma swallowed hard, "I have to arrest you."

* * *

><p>Well, there you have it! Mary has been framed for Kathryn's "murder"! Ah! But what do I have up my sleeve ahead? ;-} There will be twists my dearies! I promise you that! James remembering will change things somewhat at LEAST! And I'm quite excited for what's ahead for our friends! Thank you so much for reading! :-D Please let me know what you think!<p> 


	24. Plots and Plans

Thank you SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO much, everyone, for all of the feedback, faves and alerts! I'm really psyched for what I have coming up in this story and I'm hoping you guys will like it too! So, here is the next chapter! This is one the characters just took over while I was writing, so I hope I managed to convey all of the emotions and everything…

**Sassy, Sassy, Sassy,** my dearie…THANK YOU! :-D And sorry about taunting you! XD I just SO want to save some surprises!

O~U~A~T

**Plots and Plans**

"Emma, this is insane."

The sheriff swallowed hard, pointedly not even glancing at her deputy–no matter how much she agreed with his assessment–and avoiding looking directly into Mary's eyes, which were desperately trying to hold back tears at the moment. Those walls that Mary had spoken of a few months earlier, that Emma struggled so hard to maintain, were in shambles. It tore her heart out having to do this to the woman she considered not only her best friend but a member of her unconventional family.

"I _didn't_ hurt Kathryn!" the dark-haired teacher protested as the blonde snapped another booking photo.

Emma reluctantly met her gaze. "I _know_ that, Mary Margaret."

"Then why are you arresting me?"

Emma indicated that she was finished with the pictures; James moved over to wrap an arm around his wife, holding her close. His heart lurched as she leaned heavily into him, after all her displays of strength over the last few days it was devastating to see her so close to falling apart now.

"Because I can't appear partial; I have to go where the evidence leads and right now it's pointing to you."

"This is crazy," James exploded, "just this morning I was the primary suspect…now _Mary_? Something's going on here." His jaw was set at a determined angle.

"Of course something's going on!" She turned to the couple, hands clenched at her sides. "And this is wrong, but with all this evidence if I don't arrest you, Mary, Regina might use it as grounds for getting me fired and bring in Sydney or someone equally under her thumb. And you'll be railroaded."

His arm tightened around Mary.

"So _please_, both of you," their daughter begged, "try and be patient with me."

Emma watched John compress his lips into a thin line, turning them nearly white with the pressure; Mary's eyes swam with barely restrained tears.

"We can't even move forward with the case until we verify it's Kathryn's heart," she pointed out, trying to sound hopeful, though that had never been a strong suit for the blonde.

James pulled Mary closer, brushing a kiss against her short locks.

With a deep breath the sheriff continued, "For now I need you to bear with me…I have a few questions I have to ask you."

Her roommate sighed wearily, reluctantly drawing out of her lover's comforting embrace. "This is crazy." She shook her head, arms crossed protectively over her middle. "I would _never_ hurt _anybody_."

They headed down the hall; Emma leading and Mary following with James protectively close behind her. The blonde held the door to the interrogation room/evidence storage open; the teacher stopped dead in her tracks just a step inside the door.

A scowl darkened James' expression. "What the _hell_ is _she_ doing here?" His voice was tight, just a breath away from a snarl.

Regina smiled up at them in that infuriatingly smug, superior manner of hers from her seat at the table. Such was his fury that the prince wanted nothing more than to beat that look right off her face, and he was a man who very much adhered to the rule his mother taught him of "not hitting women." Although Regina very loosely qualified as a human being, let alone a woman in his opinion.

"She asked to be here as a third party to make sure _I_ stay impartial," Emma explained.

"Who's gonna keep _her_ impartial?" James glared at the queen-turned-mayor.

Mary reached out and took his hand. "It's fine, John."

He wasn't appeased. "What about legal counsel?"

"Mary does have that right." Emma nodded, directing her attention to her best friend. "If you want it you're entitled."

The dark-haired woman shook her head decisively. "I have nothing to hide."

"Mary," James pleaded.

"John," she squeezed his hand, smiling at him a little weakly but still reassuringly, "it's ok. I'll be fine." She then released his hand, he was much slower in relinquishing his hold, and moved to the other side of the table from where Regina already sat.

James moved to follow.

"I don't think you should be in here, Deputy," the mayor announced, eyeing him sharply.

His eyes narrowed. "And why not?"

"You're too involved," she countered evenly. "Your ex-wife is the victim and you're _screwing_ the accused."

How he managed to keep from striking her James wasn't sure; as it was he took a threatening step toward her.

His daughter's hand on his arm stopped him.

"John." Emma's voice cut through the red haze of his anger.

It was a struggle but he finally turned his gaze from the object of his ire to his child.

Her voice lowered so only he could hear. "I'll be right here with Mary the whole time."

Emma could feel the muscles of his forearm flexing under her hand, demonstrating his inner struggle to control his temper. When John nodded she released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

James' moved to his wife's side, bending down to kiss her lovingly, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs; her hands wrapped around his wrists, leaning into him. Finally they drew apart, he rested his forehead against hers. "I'm going to go back by the apartment and pick you up a few things."

His wife managed a brave smile, nodding.

He kissed her once more then reluctantly pulled away. Before stepping out of the room he shot another glare at the triumphant queen and then whispered under his breath to Emma, "Take care of her."

She nodded firmly in understanding; he reached up and squeezed her shoulder in gratitude and solidarity before finally exiting the room.

He got into his truck and stuck the key in the ignition, hand gripping it in preparation to turn it over when he went still. James suddenly pounded his fists against the steering wheel in frustrated impotence. Hating how helpless he felt, his wife accused of a crime she would have _never_ committed, not even when she was under the influence of Rumplestiltskin's potion, and being completely powerless to make the madness end.

The sun was peeking over the tops of the buildings in town. They'd been up all night dealing with this nightmare. His hands scrubbed tiredly over his face, tears burning behind his eyes. He _had_ to save her, his wife, his Snow.

His hands clamped around the steering wheel tight enough that his knuckles were whiter than his wife's namesake. Slowly his grip slackened until he could finally pull one hand away to start up the vehicle, pulling out of his parking space and out into the empty streets of the cursed town.

O~U~A~T

His key scraped in the lock of the apartment door, the jangle of metal loud in the empty living space. It seemed somehow quieter and more devoid of life now than it normally did when he was the only one home. Dinner sat cold and forgotten on the kitchen island; to busy his hands and mind for a moment he moved over to dump it all out in the trash. Mary would have fussed over the waste. He automatically began washing the dishes, feeling like he needed to do so, if nothing else than to maintain _some_ sense of normalcy in the space. Mary hated leaving messes, and Snow did as well.

Upon finishing the chore, he braced his hands on the edge of the sink, head hanging down, and tried to rein in his once again surging emotions.

_Snow grinned up at him, arms wrapping loosely around his neck. "My passionate Charming," she gently teased. She rose on her tiptoes to rub her nose against his. "You don't do anything by halves."_

Tears leaked out from between his shut eyelids to trickle down his cheeks.

_His lips quirked up in a half-grin. "My mother always said that of me."_

His fingers curled into his short hair, fisting there, teeth gritted.

_Her laughter bubbled out. "Well, she was _entirely_ right!"_

Tremors shook his frame violently.

_Her green eyes sparkled with humor and adoration. "And I love that about you." Her lips pressed to his in a passionate kiss._

His hand closed around a glass next to him on the counter and he flung it with all his strength across the room, a cry of heartrending anguish tearing through his lips. The crash and his throaty yell echoed through the empty living space as he slowly slid to the floor, back pressed against the cabinets beneath the sink; head falling into his hands as he sobbed, shoulders heaving with his tears.

O~U~A~T

James wasn't sure how long he remained crumpled on the kitchen floor. Even after his tears had abated he'd remained there for quite a while longer, staring sightlessly at the cabinets of the island across from him. When he finally rose his joints popped and creaked from sitting on the hard floor for so long, complaining loudly, reminding him vividly of all his old injuries. Ignoring them, he got a broom and dustpan and proceeded to sweep up the mess he'd made breaking the glass, inwardly making a note to buy a replacement and feeling guilty for breaking one of his wife's dishes.

He then set about fulfilling his purpose in coming here, gathering things for Mary's stay in the jail. He first went to the bathroom, putting her toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo, conditioner and soap into a toiletry bag. James then moved on to the bedroom. He found his sports bag and put Mary's bathroom items in it. He then began gathering undergarments for her and several changes of clothing, sticking to things that he knew were her favorites and comfortable.

From the bedside table he retrieved the book she was currently reading, a well-worn and dog-eared copy of _Persuasion_ by Jane Austen. He ran his fingers over the tattered cover; he hadn't read the book or any of the others by the author, but Mary had always glowed with excitement and happiness when speaking about Jane Austen's works. He'd been hoping to read them after he finished with _The Lord of the Rings_, if for no other reason than she loved them so much.

He wasn't sure how, but he found himself sitting on the floor, back against the side of her bed, book just barely dangling from his fingers, head bowed and a hand scrubbing over his scalp. James was a man of action, sitting on the sidelines and watching while others fought battles went against _every_ instinct he possessed. Especially when it came to his loved ones.

Lost in thought and his emotions he wouldn't have noticed the heat kicking on, even though it was currently the only sound in the otherwise silent apartment, save that a loud rattling noise accompanied it.

James lifted his head, frowning as his eyes scanned the room for the source which seemed to be coming from close by. His gaze landed on the grate–he was thankful that the few memories the curse had supplied him of this world included such simple things. The prince moved to lift the metal cover; inside there was an object wrapped in cloth, curious he pulled it out, unwrapping the item.

A long, deadly-looking hunting knife lay in his hand. His stomach dropped to his feet, the complete weight of the evidence in the conspiracy against his wife crashing over him. James' mind raced, trying to think of how to deal with this new "evidence" that would point right at his beloved. His first instinct was to take it and hide it or get rid of it, but he knew Regina was the one who had set this up and if the knife wasn't found she'd become suspicious and there was no telling what she'd do then. Another idea began to form in his mind.

O~U~A~T

James had just replaced the grate when he heard the apartment door open and Emma call out, "John?"

"In here!" he shouted back, moving over to the bed where the bag he was packing for Mary sat and placed a pair of pants in it. He could hear his daughter moving around in the kitchen.

"Hey, where did this glass in the trash can come from?" There was an odd note in her voice.

"Me," James replied; he turned at his daughter's approaching steps to see her stop in the doorway. "I broke a glass when I was doing the dishes."

"Oh." She actually seemed a little disappointed.

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Something wrong?"

"The box that we found the heart in," the expression on Emma's face was pained, "it was Mary's jewelry box."

His hands clenched at his sides, trying to keep from lashing out again in his anger. "And now?" he bit out tightly.

"And now," she began with a sigh, "I'm looking for any indication that we've had a break-in."

"Or else there isn't any proof that Mary _didn't_ do this." He finished her unspoken thought.

Emma's eyes slid to his apologetically.

His teeth were clenched so tight that he was surprised they didn't crack. But he refused to give in to his anger and frustration, knowing neither would help Mary, and Emma was doing her best to help and didn't deserve his ire.

James turned back to the bag, jaw set, and zipped it closed.

"There's one more thing."

Her tone had his back stiffening. "Yes?"

"I have to put you on administrative leave."

He spun to face Emma. "What?"

His daughter's expression illustrated just how much she didn't want to be doing this. "You're too close to this case and for your sake as well as Mary's it's best you stay as far away from it as possible, including staying away from the station so that no one can claim you possibly tampered with the evidence."

"This is Regina's doing, isn't it?" he asked, the disgust in his voice not directed at Emma but at his stepmother-in-law.

"Actually, she wanted me to fire you entirely. I'm the one who decided to put you on administrative leave instead."

James sighed, head falling forward in defeat, before straightening up and pulling out his keys. He carefully removed the ring that held his keys for the station and all of the locks inside, unclipped his badge from his waistband along with his gun and holster, handing them over.

When she reached to take them from him, Emma caught his hand in her grasp; his eyes lifted to meet hers.

"This is only until I can clear Mary," she promised earnestly. "I have no intention of releasing you from your post."

He gave her a small grin, which she returned before her instinctive discomfort with emotional displays began to creep in and she pulled away, shrugging. "It would suck to have to train a new deputy."

He chuckled softly. "So, should I give you Mary's belongings to pass on to her?"

Emma gazed at him consideringly then, making a decision, spun one key off of the ring he'd just handed her. "Here." She extended it to him and he tentatively accepted it. "It's the key to the front door and the front door only."

His eyebrows shot up.

"Put the bag on your desk for me to look through." She rolled her eyes. "That way Madame Mayor cannot accuse you of slipping something in it to free Mary." Her gaze became pointed. "Regina is gone for the day and I'll probably be here for a while."

Catching her meaning, James grinned. He wanted to hug his daughter and place a grateful kiss on her forehead but knew that if he was lucky she'd just jerk away and chalk it up to emotions running high, worst-case she'd rack him and never even _look_ at him again, much less talk to him. "_Thank you_," he told her emphatically instead.

O~U~A~T

Mary was sitting on the cot in the cell, head in her hands, when James entered the station. "Mary."

His wife's head immediately rose from where she had buried it; a smile lifted her lips even though she'd obviously been crying. "John!" She was on her feet and covering the short distance to the bars.

James nearly ran to where his wife was, not even looking as he dropped the bag on his desk in passing. His hands closed over hers on the bars, savoring the small contact, he gently guided her hands a bit higher on the bars; his lips pressed against the backs of her fingers lingeringly, eyes locked on hers.

When he pulled back she uncurled her fingers and reached between the bars to cup his cheek. "Emma said she was going to have to put you on administrative leave."

One corner of his mouth quirked up wryly. "Yeah, she did."

Mary's brow furrowed. "I'm so sorry."

He was shaking his head before she even finished the second word. "Don't, Mary. This _isn't_ your fault." His thumb stroked along her jawline. "_None_ of this is your fault. As you told Emma and Regina, you've done _nothing_ wrong."

She managed a smile for him, but it was weak.

Needing to cheer her up even just the smallest bit he nodded at the bag. "I brought you some things. Emma said that she has to look through them first to satisfy Regina that I didn't bake you a cake with a file in it." He rolled his eyes sarcastically, earning him a small quiet laugh. He drew a finger across her cheek. "I put _Persuasion_ in it along with clothes and toiletries."

Grateful tears shimmered in Mary's eyes; breaking James' heart as her lids slid shut.

"Thank you," she managed tearfully.

"Mary…" His voice was rough with tears of his own.

"I'm scared, John," she sobbed.

His hand curved around the back of her neck, fingers sliding through the short hair there, his lips pressed to her forehead. "I'm right here, Mary," he murmured against her skin. He kissed her face, anywhere he could reach, over and over. "I love you. I will love you for all eternity."

"_And do you, Snow White, promise to take this man to be your husband and to love him for all eternity?" the priest inquired grandly._

_She felt certain her face would split in two from the grin that was spread across it, unable to remember a happier moment in her life. "I do…"_

"Mary?"

She blinked rapidly, the grandiose room disappearing from around her, finding herself still staring into brilliant blue eyes, but in a jail cell, dressed not in a beautiful white wedding dress, but her nearly painfully ordinary slacks, blouse and cardigan. She buried her face in her hands.

"Mary?" What had been curiosity tingeing John's voice was now worry. "Darling, what is it?"

_The whole time they were moving through the first set of the dance their eyes were locked, holding each other much closer than was called for in the dance. Then came the moment to switch partners, he leaned down to murmur lovingly and teasingly in her ear as he passed, "My darling."_

She squeezed her eyes shut, fingertips pressing into them, trying to breathe through the clash of emotions that were threatening to overwhelm her.

His rough palms gently cradled her face, an anchor in the storm of her feelings that she grabbed onto desperately.

"What's wrong?" he begged. James hated seeing his wife so distressed and wanted nothing more than to ease her burdens in this already difficult situation.

She haltingly lowered her hands from her eyes and reached out to curl them into the collar of his jacket, with a deep bracing breath she finally whispered, "I think I'm going crazy."

He frowned at her in confusion. "What?" he whispered back.

Mary kept her voice low in case someone walked by or into the station, not wanting to be overheard. "I keep having these dreams and…hallucinations or something."

His heart leapt, hoping that these "dreams" and "hallucinations" were what he thought they were. "What are they about?"

The laugh she let out had a slightly hysterical edge to it. "You know Henry's fairy tale theory?"

His pulse sped up a bit more. "Yes."

Mary's emerald eyes were so full of conflicting emotions and confusion. "The dreams and…whatever you call the other times while I'm awake–are about that. We're together, dressed like we're in medieval times and my hair is long; we're in castles, riding horses–I've never even _ridden_ a horse!–fighting with swords and shooting bows and arrows–I wouldn't know the _first thing_ about how to do either! I-I'm _pregnant_ in some of them… And you call me Snow and I call you James or Charming, mostly Charming…and…" She made a distressed noise before covering her face with her hands again, shaking her head.

James wanted nothing more than to tell her it was all true, that that was their _real_ life, a life they had begun to live together when it was abruptly and painfully interrupted. But she wasn't ready to hear that yet, and she didn't need the added strain such a revelation would bring. No, what she needed right now was comfort and support.

He reached out and gently pulled her hands away so he could look her in the eye. "Mary, listen to me, please." Once she was looking back at him he continued. "You're absolutely _not_ crazy." When she opened her mouth to protest he shook his head, reiterating firmly, "You're _not_. I _know _you and I know you're not going crazy. I know you need answers, and we'll get them, but right now you need to focus on getting through this nightmare situation. Afterward," he raised one hand to cup her cheek, "we'll figure things out."

Mary nearly slumped to the floor with relief. He believed her and he didn't think she was crazy or something. He was standing by her. She slid her hands up to rest her palms against his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat under her palm; she pressed as close to him as the bars would allow. "Thank you."

His hand slid from her cheek to the back of her neck, the other slipping between the bars to grip her waist, pressing just as close. "I love you, Mary. We _can_ win this fight. We _will_!"

A smile lifted her lips. "Such faith," she murmured, reaching up to caress his face. "I love you too."

The kiss was more than awkward with the jail cell bars between them, but that didn't lessen the passion of it or how reaffirming and soothing it was for them.

A throat clearing finally had them pulling apart, rather sheepish smiles on their face as they turned to Emma, but both of their grins fell once they laid eyes on her.

Their daughter was standing just inside the door to the station, hands clutching a plastic bag, expression pained.

"What is it?" Mary's voice quavered.

James reached over to cover her hand that was once again gripping one of the bars. Strange, he mused, how he was bracing himself when he already knew what was coming.

"I-I found this knife in the heating vent in your room, Mary." Emma held up the bag so that they could see the long blade inside.

What little color resided in the dark-haired woman's face fled. "Is that…?"

"It appears to be," the sheriff confirmed her friend's fears faintly.

Mary breathed out something that sounded like "oh, gods," though Emma was certain she must have misheard her when it came to the "s." Green tinged the skin around her lips and, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth she dashed to a corner so her back was to the other two, loosing what little was in her stomach.

The blonde hurriedly unlocked the cell; James dashed in once the door swung open, rushing over to his wife who was crouched down, wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

"I'm sorry," she managed softly, hand still pressed to her lips, body shaking.

"It's fine," Emma assured her, silently directing James to help her over to the cot while the sheriff went to lock up the knife and fetch a mop and bucket.

James was all but carrying Mary, her legs like Jell-O. "I'm sorry, I just…" He lowered her to the thin pallet that passed for a mattress.

"Mary," he gently interrupted, "Emma said it was fine. You've had a shock, and with what you've already been through no one can blame you for reacting the way you did."

She was still trembling from the emotional overload and throwing up; he ran a hand across her damp forehead checking her temperature. Her skin was clammy. He reached behind them to draw the blanket up from the bed and wrapped it about her.

"Thank you," she murmured. One of her hands scrubbed across her eyes. "I just don't understand. What is going on? Why is someone trying to frame me for Kathryn's murder?" Her emerald eyes gazed into his with such aching confusion. "What did I ever do to deserve this?"

James' jaw was clenched tightly, wanting to tell his wife _exactly_ who was behind this and explain why, but they had literally _no_ proof. "I couldn't say," he settled for instead.

Emma chose that moment to return with the mop and bucket.

He squeezed Mary's shoulder. "Stay here."

"I should help–"

"No," he gently countered, hands on her shoulders keeping her from rising. "You're still shaking; you need to give yourself a few minutes longer to recover." He straightened. "I'll give Emma a hand."

His wife reluctantly acquiesced, drawing the blanket tighter about her.

Father and daughter quickly worked together to clean up the vomit and sanitize the floor and wall. By the time they'd finished Mary's shaking had stopped and she was _much_ steadier…and dying to brush her teeth. Emma escorted her to the bathroom when she made the request, after a cursory inspection of the bag James had packed, the sheriff rolling her eyes quite exaggeratedly over the necessity of the search.

When they returned, James had put away the mop and bucket and straightened the bed. His wife gave him a grateful smile and kiss before stepping back into the cell; Emma shutting the door behind her.

Mary could still feel the panic and terror choking her, barely hanging on to her composure by a thread. "Emma, I don't even know where the heating vent in my bedroom _is_!"

The blonde had her arms crossed over her chest, using the protective gesture to help hold herself together; Mary needed her to keep a level head. "Well, someone did, and they put that hunting knife in it." Her eyes darted to the floor. "I checked for signs of a break-in but there weren't any." Her gaze lifted back up to her friend.

The teacher's eyes went wide. "You don't believe me…"

"Of _course_ I do," Emma quickly cut in, moving closer to the cell, some of the natural guardedness of her posture slipping to reveal that she was telling the truth. "But what I or John," she nodded to her erstwhile deputy, "believe doesn't matter."

His spine stiffened at her words.

"Evidence it piling up by the _hour_."

Mary took a few deep breaths, closing her eyes trying to find some semblance of composure. "Ok, what are you _saying_?"

"She's saying," James explained, "that you should hire a lawyer." Concern furrowed his brow and determination set his jaw.

"An excellent idea."

They all whipped around at the too familiar accented cadence.

"Mr. Gold," Mary managed, nervously wrapping her cardigan tighter about her.

James wasn't sure he could speak right now, his temper far too hot after everything that had happened; his fists clenched at his sides, eyes burning holes in the damn imp.

"What are you doing here?" Emma asked incredulously.

"Offering my legal services."

"You're a lawyer?" The sheriff raised a skeptical brow.

The shorter man began to make his leisurely way over to them, leaning heavily on his cane. "Ever wonder why I was so adept at contracts?"

James couldn't help thinking that the profession, added on to his running the pawn shop, was perfect for the man–if you could call him that. All the clichéd jokes about blood sucking lawyers were suddenly quite apropos in his case.

"I've been following the details of your case, Ms. Blanchard, and I think you'd be well-advised to bring me on as your counsel."

Her gaze was wary. "And why is that?"

"Well, because the sheriff had _me_ arrested for nearly beating a man to death, and I managed to persuade the judge to…_drop_ the charges." He pointed out lightly.

"Asserting your influence isn't what's needed here," Emma firmly countered, her feelings of distrust for this man matching her deputy's. "We need to _find_ the truth."

"Exerting influence may be _exactly_ what's needed here."

The sheriff stepped toward him, unafraid. "What's needed here is for me to do my job."

"Well, no one's stopping you." Rumplestiltskin volleyed back. He leaned forward on his cane. "I'm only here to _help_."

"Enough!" Mary finally exclaimed. "Please go," she breathed out.

Emma held her head high, arms crossed over her chest, glaring at the would-be attorney. "You heard her."

"No, I was talking to you," Mary softly corrected.

Emma turned to her, expression hurt.

"Mary," James said lowly, fingers reaching out to touch her arm.

"He's _right_." Her gaze went back and forth between the two people she cared for most in the world. "I need _help_." Her eyes settled on the sheriff. "And you need to do your job, or else I'm _screwed_."

Had the situation not been so dire James would have been amused to hear such a crude slang of this world coming from his wife.

"So just _please_, do your job the best you can, and you'll prove me innocent. Until you do, I need some practical help."

Rumplestiltskin came to stand near the cell. "Trust me."

"Not happening," James muttered under his breath; his wife shot him a sharp glance.

The imp decided to ignore the comment. "This is in Ms. Blanchard's best interests."

After a couple of heartbeats, Emma looked back at her best friend. "Good luck, Mary Margaret," she murmured quietly.

The raven-haired woman nodded, forcing as bright a smile as possible.

Emma continued to speak to Mary but turned to face the man who was now her best friend's lawyer. "I hope your best interests are what he's looking out for." She slowly walked to her office, closing the door behind her.

Mary kept a bit of distance between her and the man so many feared; James' posture was protective, keeping his body between hers and Rumplestiltskin's.

"I can't pay you," she softly admitted.

"I didn't _ask_ for money."

James' pulse jumped, not liking the sound of that.

"Then why are you doing this?" Mary eyed him warily.

That damned smile of his that he got when he knew something, had some ace up his sleeve, quirked his mouth, doing _nothing_ to ease James' dread. "Let's just say…I'm invested in your future," he told her meaningfully.

The prince leaned his head closer to his wife's. "Mary, you don't have to do this." She looked at him. "We'll find someone else."

"Someone we can _afford_?" she countered, a wry twist to her lips. "The only legal help we could afford otherwise would be a public defender, which would also be for free, but the one here in town doesn't exactly inspire a great deal of confidence. I don't have savings and your divorce wiped out most of yours, and Emma doesn't have anything either."

His hand gripped the bar tight enough that his knuckles went white, hating the fact that Mary was right about this. Their options were severely limited…basically two: the public defender–who was basically guaranteed to loose–and Rumplestiltskin–whose motives were inscrutable.

The imp cocked an eyebrow at James, a smirk playing about his mouth. "It would be best if you weren't here either, Deputy."

"I'm on administrative leave," the prince shot back. "I'm too 'involved' in this case to be active apparently." No way in _hell_ was he going to leave Rumplestiltskin alone with his wife, especially not when she was so vulnerable.

His wife's fingers encircled the wrist of the hand locked in a death grip on the cell bar with. "And I want him here."

"Well, then," the "lawyer" said genially, "if there's no conflict with his job and you wish him to stay then let's get on with this."

Over the next hour Rumplestiltskin questioned not only Mary but James as well about the events leading up to Kathryn's disappearance, the sandy-haired man responding a bit more reluctantly, but still cooperative for his wife's sake. He then proceeded to outline their options for defense strategy, and though James could clearly see the sly, knowing glint in the imp's eyes that indicated he had plans he wasn't sharing, the prince couldn't deny that the short man knew his way around the law and how to manipulate it.

At the end of the hour Emma came in to announce that they had to leave because she was closing up for the night. Rumplestiltskin had smoothly cut in informing her that he wished to see the knife she'd found and question her about it before he left.

The sheriff reluctantly nodded, obviously not wanting to have to deal with the man, but cast a small smile at her two friends. "We'll be back in a bit," she added, granting her tacit permission for James to remain until she returned.

He slid his hands between the bars to wrap around Mary's back, holding her as closely as the bars allowed. She reciprocated the embrace as best she could, wanting nothing more than to burrow into the safety of his arms, but unable to fully do so.

James had his lips pressed against her forehead. "Do you want me to bring you something for dinner?"

Her lips curved into a gentle smile at the worried, protective note in his voice, arms squeezing him affectionately for a moment. "No." Her voice still didn't have quite its usual strength. Her head tilted back to look him in the eye. "Thank you for the thought, but Emma said that she's going to bring something." She blew out a breath. "Though I'm not sure I'll be able to keep any of it down."

His brow furrowed worriedly, her lover lifted a hand to feel her forehead. "Are you still feeling sick?"

Mary reached up, catching his wrist. "I'm not sick," she tried to reassure him. "My stomach is just…churning from…_everything_."

An unconvinced frown remained on his face but James nodded, allowing his hand to caress the side of her face. "If you're sure…"

Her hand tangled with his, tightening her fingers around his reassuringly. "I am." In all honesty she was afraid for him to leave, his presence was helping her keep the overwhelming panic and fear at bay, but he couldn't stay.

Their foreheads pressed together again, fingers of their linked hands knotting between them. "I'll ask Emma to get you soup and maybe crackers, or at least something that won't likely upset your stomach."

Mary's free hand came up to furl in the front of his shirt. "Thank you." Face canting up, her lips brushed against his. "I love you."

Fingers sifting through her dark strands, James pressed their lips together more firmly, trying to pour every ounce of love, faith, comfort and support he could into it, hating that he had to leave her in this place. "I love you too."

When Emma and Rumplestiltskin returned it killed the couple to pull apart, but James promised to return as early as possible the next day. They kept their hands linked as he forced himself to walk away, maintaining the contact until he had moved out of their reach, hearts aching in their chests.

The prince quietly voiced the food request to his daughter, managing an understanding smile in response to the helpless apologetic one she gave him, before exiting the office just ahead of Rumplestiltskin.

Once they were several paces down the hall, away from the office's door in the empty passage, James spun on the imp, facing him head-on.

The shorter man easily drew to a stop, expression unfazed at James turning on him so abruptly. "Well," he rested his hands comfortably on the handle of his cane, posture relaxed, "I was wondering when we'd be having this little chat."

The prince's hands were fists at his sides, longing to lash out, but that wouldn't do anyone any _real_ good–though it would certainly make _him_ feel better. "What are you doing, Rumplestiltskin?"

"Why whatever do you mean?" the imp inquired in that infuriatingly mild tone of his.

James gritted his teeth, working _very_ hard to remind himself of all the reasons that hitting the man wasn't a good idea. "You know _exactly_ what I mean. What game are you playing, agreeing to represent my wife pro bono? You don't do _anything_ without a reason or without getting _something_ from it. So what are you getting out of this…arrangement?"

The imp took a limping step forward. "_That_ isn't your business, dearie." The fair-headed prince nearly snarled back at the man, however Rumplestiltskin continued before he had the chance. "However, I _can_ tell you, that I have _no_ intention of your wife going to jail or otherwise being punished for this crime. So rest easy." He began to move around James.

"You expect me to just take your _word_ on that?"

The imp turned back to him. "Well, dearie, I would expect after all that _lovely_ time we spent in that dungeon and all the other deals you've been party to that you would know I'm a _man_ of my _word_."

James' lips compressed into a razor thin line, hating the knowledge that Rumplestiltskin might play on the _intent_ of words, but he followed them to the very _letter_ in his deals.

"Your Majesty." The imp mockingly bowed.

With nothing else to do the prince watched his former prisoner slowly amble down the hall, jaw set as it had been for so much of the day in frustration at his own helplessness and silently praying that his plan would work.

O~U~A~T

James entered the empty apartment for the second time that day after grabbing a sandwich at Tony's for dinner. He'd thought that with all his tarrying in the sandwich shop that Emma might be home by now, but she wasn't. He hung his coat and keys on the designated hooks by the door, dragging his feet through the common spaces to his and Mary's room, stopping dead in the doorway.

His things had taken up noticeable residence in the room, but with so short an occupation on his part his tastes were only just starting to make an appearance; the room was still more Mary–who had decorative tastes that were close to Snow's so it was very much her as well. The pain was intense enough in his chest that James was surprised he wasn't doubled over with it. It was _all wrong_, his beloved not being here. He stared at the bed for a few moments, fatigue dragged at his eyelids and body, but his mind and emotions were a riot. Instead his gaze scanned the room further.

A pair of his shoes he'd toed off haphazardly near the bed yesterday were now neatly lined up next to hers near the closet, Mary's doing. He'd draped a pair of his jeans, belt still looped through the waistband, over the back of the chair in the corner; lying over the arm, in an uncharacteristically lax gesture for Mary, was one of her sweaters. His hands closed over the soft material of the cardigan, rubbing the familiar texture between his fingers, when he lifted it to his nose, her scent still clung to it. He didn't know how he got there but he found himself more or less collapsing on the bed, tears on his face and her sweater still in his hands.

He never remembered the oblivion of exhausted sleep taking him.

O~U~A~T

Mary had managed to eat some of her dinner, vegetable soup and crackers Emma brought her from Granny's, without her unsteady stomach complaining. She was now preparing for bed; Emma had closed all the blinds, locked the door and shut off the lights save for one she placed in the cell for Mary to use.

The teacher changed out of the clothing she'd been wearing for nearly 48 hours and into a pair of pajama pants; she dug around for a top to wear when her fingers encountered a familiar soft material. She pulled out one of John's flannel shirts, her favorite one actually…for both of them, the color made his eyes look even bluer and she liked wearing it because it always seemed to smell of him. She sniffed it, a small smile curving her lips at finding his comforting scent on it and pulled it on, the soft texture familiar on her skin. Mary curled up on the cot, keeping one arm near her face so she could still smell him from the cloth on the sleeve.

With everything that had happened and all of her emotional and mental upheaval, Mary had thought she wouldn't be able to sleep. But perhaps because of everything that had happened and her emotional turmoil, coupled with the fact that she hadn't slept in nearly two days, she fell into blessed, dreamless unconsciousness only minutes after her head rested on the pillow.

O~U~A~T

Emma was…well whatever was beyond exhausted. In her life she'd gotten used to upheaval, and impermanence. So this whole situation with Mary should have been a piece of cake to handle emotionally… But it wasn't. She chalked it up to the fact that despite her best efforts to remain as detached as she could, Mary along with John and Henry had made it past her walls and into her heart. That in just a few months she'd actually gotten _used_ to the routine of her life here in Storybrooke, had grown accustomed to the comforting rhythm of it all.

Henry, who might occasionally be hurt by something she did, never wavered in his love and affection for her, always there looking up at her with that bright grin. Mary, with her steady, sweet personality and ever-ready ear, after never having a roommate Emma had come to count on her presence in their apartment with a cup of cocoa waiting after a hard day. John was the very definition of dependable, always having her back and helping her take care of and protect their unconventional family.

Part of her wanted to run as fast and as far as she could away from this place and all of these people she depended on and cared for; it opened her up to get hurt, to get her heart ripped out. But she couldn't. It was _far_ too late, she loved them all and they _needed_ her; they _counted_ on her.

What actually scared her the most, even more than opening herself up by caring for her family, was that _they_ depended on _her_, and not just them but the rest of the town as well. Perhaps it wasn't something she fully thought through when she was determined to become sheriff, but she was all too aware of it now. The part of her screaming at her to run was also screaming at her to quit the sheriff job, crying that she didn't _want_ people to depend on her! She didn't _ask_ to be responsible for taking care of an _entire town_! She could barely take care of herself most days. But the fact was she _had_ asked for it. In running for sheriff, she'd asked for their trust, their faith, to be placed in her. And no matter how inadequate she felt she _couldn't_ let Mary or _any_ of them down. She'd been a screw-up all her life, but now she wanted…no, she _needed_ to get this right!

Emma stood in front of the apartment door; she pressed a finger to the lock that only a couple of hours ago Henry had used to prove to her Regina was indeed behind all of this. Afterward she'd quickly driven him back to Town Hall to return Madame Mayor's keys and taken him home, mind reeling with this new revelation. She pulled her finger back and replaced it with her own key, once inside she went through the routine of hanging up her coat and keys by the door–it was odd how something so simple as that could comfort her with its normalcy. John's belongings were already there, though it was absolutely silent.

Emma kept her footsteps as soft as possible, making her way to Mary and John's room.

Slumped over on Mary's side of the bed, booted feet still resting on the floor and hand clutching what appeared to be one of her roommate's sweaters, was John. Emma quietly made her way over to him, his shut eyelids and slow, steady breathing telling her that he was deep asleep. She could see the obvious remnants of dried tear tracks on his face; her heart lurched at the sight. She knelt down beside her deputy and began to remove his boots one-by-one, doing her best not to disturb him, setting them down beside the bed. Then Emma wrapped her hands around his ankles and carefully lifted them up onto the bed.

John stirred with this action, eyes cracking open groggily. "Emma?"

"Shh…" she softly soothed, pulling a blanket over him. "Go back to sleep, John."

"Hmm," he relaxed again, burrowing into the pillow, while his grip tightened on the sweater, pulling it closer. "Thank you…" He was drifting back off almost instantly.

"You're welcome," the blonde replied, though he obviously was beyond hearing her. She watched him for a few moments longer before finally rising and heading upstairs to her room, falling into her own bed, fully clothed, and joining her parents in dreamless sleep.

Goodness knew they'd need all the rest they could get in the coming days…

O~U~A~T

Next chapter will be…interesting, with Jefferson involved. XD Oh, is it EVER going to cause some craziness! Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you think of the chapter! :-D


	25. It's a Mad Mad World

Back again with more Hot Chocolate! :-D Things have finally begun to slow down at work ( I have one of those jobs where late spring/summer is our busy time of year and fall/winter/early spring are the slow time of year.) Though we did have a burst of activity the last couple of days so it took me a day longer to edit this chapter. There is quite a bit of episode dialogue in this chapter, but hopefully the chapters after this will make up for it with very little of dialogue from the episodes. After this chapter I'm going to be twisting things quite a bit again… ;-} I think you guys will enjoy what I have in store for our intrepid family and group of friends… Thank you SO MUCH for all of the support and encouragement! :-D I LOVE hearing from you guys and what you think about the chapters!

Well, Sassy, dearie, I'm actually glad that I was able to surprise you! ;-D THANK YOU! You're comments always make me smile and laugh and your edits are SO helpful!

O~U~A~T

**It's a Mad, Mad World**

James stared fixedly at the steady drip of coffee into the pot. He normally wouldn't have just stood there doing something that was so wasteful of time, however it was an old habit. Standing watch over things he could control–a fire flickering in a fireplace, coffee brewing–when he was worried about the people he loved and helpless to do anything to protect them.

"John!"

His head snapped up at his daughter's shout; her worried expression had him wondering how many times Emma had tried to get his attention. "Sorry?"

"I was just saying 'morning…'" She eyed him with a deep frown. "I called you three times…you ok?"

He opened him mouth to say "fine" but closed it again at the cocked eyebrow she gave him. "I was just lost in thought…about Mary." The coffee had finished brewing, he lifted the pot and poured two cups. "Worrying about her."

"Don't." Her voice was firm but he could hear the forced bravado in it. "We're going to fix this, we're going to find the truth and get her out of this mess." The set of her mouth and the stubborn determination in her eyes were oh-so-familiar; James knew she truly believed in her promise, that they would save Mary and she was going to use every ounce of her will to make it happen.

He held her gaze. "She's the love of my life, Emma." His hands clenched around the mug. "I can't…I can't lose her." _Again_, he silently added.

He could see her clenched knuckles were almost as white as the ceramic mug she was holding. "We won't lose her. We'll save her." She couldn't allow for anything else.

James wanted more than anything to just take her word, to believe that everything would be all right, but fear had clamped like a vise around his heart and lungs. "Have you heard back from the lab?" he asked as levelly as he could manage, setting his coffee down on the counter.

Emma's jaw clenched, obviously reluctant to answer. "Yes…it was Kathryn's heart."

The prince spun around to face the counter, hands clamping down on the edge, trying to keep from throwing something again. He didn't want to break in front of his daughter of all people, especially not when she already had too much weighing on her shoulders.

"I'm sorry, John."

After squeezing the counter once more, he snatched up his coffee, dumping the nearly full mug out in the sink and setting it inside. He then turned on his heel and strode to the door, grabbing his coat along the way. "I'm going to get Mary's breakfast." Without another word he opened the door and shut it behind him hard enough to rattle the hinges.

O~U~A~T

Emma stared at the door her deputy had just left through. He was trying to hold himself together but she could see that what was happening with Mary was really getting to him. If Mary was taken from them she wasn't sure John would ever recover from it. She doubted he would. If she was honest with herself, Emma didn't think she'd recover either, but she was trying to studiously ignore that small voice in her mind.

She'd never been a believer in there being just one perfect person out there for everyone or "true love" or, as he called it, "the love of your life." Life had made her a skeptic of love of any kind…however Mary and John…they made her question her belief in there not being such a thing.

Her jaw locked tight. She couldn't let that fall apart; the couple who made her hope that such a thing as "true love" really existed… She couldn't lose the people who meant the most to her! She _couldn't_ lose her _family_!

O~U~A~T

Ruby was uncharacteristically subdued as she handed James two cups of coffee–since he hadn't really drunk more the a couple sips of the one he's made back at the apartment he'd bought himself another, though he wasn't sure he'd be able to drink that either–and the paper bag with Mary's breakfast. "John?"

Weary blue eyes lifted to meet hazel ones.

She bit her lip, brow furrowed with worry. "How's Mary?"

His first instinct was to snap back, how the hell did she _think_ Mary was doing? But this was Ruby, Red, one of Snow's dearest friends, and one of the few people who had stood by Mary and remained a true friend when people thought they'd had an affair. James swallowed thickly, fighting to rein in his temper. "Scared."

She wrapped her arms tightly around her stomach. "And the case?"

Not wanting to have to admit how bad things were out loud, he dropped his head, hanging it for a moment before straightening and gathering his order. "Thanks, Ruby."

"You're welcome…" Her gaze followed his tall form to the door anxiously. The waitress gnawed on her lower lip, able to see clearly how thin the mask he was wearing was, trying to convince everyone that he was fine but it was about as far from the truth as possible.

O~U~A~T

When James entered the station Emma was standing next to the cell, her head bent close to Mary's. They both looked up upon hearing his footsteps. For several heartbeats there was a pregnant silence.

"John," his wife finally breathed, easing the loaded moment.

"I brought your breakfast." He held up the bag and coffee, attempting something that resembled his usual charming grin, but was fairly sure he didn't succeed. He slipped one of the coffees and the bag through the bars to her.

"Thank you," she murmured, setting the bag on the cot beside her before leaning forward to press her lips against James' lingeringly.

When they pulled apart it was to find that Emma had discreetly slipped away into her office.

The prince reached between the bars to stroke his fingers over his love's dark cap of hair. "Were you able to sleep last night?"

Mary leaned into his caress, a tiny smile lifting her lips. "Yes, wearing your shirt helped." She turned her head to place a kiss on the inside of his wrist. "Thank you for that."

They were keeping their voices low, far too aware of their lack of privacy and how easily someone could just walk into the station.

His mouth turned up in a half-grin. "It looks better on you than me anyway."

She managed to hold the smile for a couple more heartbeats before it slid off her face, head falling forward, her fingers plucked at the buttons on his shirt. "Emma told me about Kathryn's heart…"

James clenched his jaw. "She told me before I left this morning."

Mary rubbed the worn fabric of his flannel shirt between her thumb and forefinger. "She also told me how she found evidence that Regina is framing me…"

His brow furrowed. "What?! She didn't mention _that_! What is it?"

Her palm flattened against his chest in a calming gesture. "She didn't say, only that she couldn't turn it in."

"Why the hell _not_?!" If they had evidence to vindicate Mary why wasn't Emma revealing it?!

"Because she said it wouldn't stand in court." Green eyes lifted to his. "And that's what they care about, when it comes to proving who killed Kathryn."

His knuckles went white as his grip on the bar tightened.

"She's still looking for more evidence, court-worthy evidence, but…" Her small white teeth tugged on her lower lip. "I don't think that Regina will _let_ her find it…" She squeezed her eyes shut against the burn of tears.

James pried a hand from the bars and reached between them to cup her cheek, exhausted green eyes opening and lifting to blue ones in response to his touch. "I _won't_ let you go to prison, Mary," he swore. "I love you, and I won't let you be convicted of something you didn't do!"

Her eyes gazed into his searchingly.

A frown pulled at his mouth, wondering what she was looking for. "What is it?"

Mary stared at him a moment longer before opening her mouth, however she snapped it shut again when Emma exited her office.

"Hey, I have to run out for a while…" She fiddled with her keys, obviously uncomfortable with whatever she was about to say. "John, I have to ask you to leave with me because if Regina comes in here and catches you alone with Mary she'll probably twist it in some way to make things worse for Mary…"

He hated to leave his wife, but knew that Emma had a point and he wanted to do anything he could to protect his true love. Also, something in his daughter's tone when she said she had to "run out" was nagging at him and he wanted to find out what she was doing.

Reluctantly James leaned forward to kiss Mary, hands clinging to her, wishing for the thousandth time already that he didn't have to leave her here.

"I'll see you later," he murmured to her once they drew apart.

"Ok. I love you."

His fingers tenderly brushed aside her bangs. "I love you too."

She managed a weak smile for him, squeezing his hand before forcing herself over to the cot to her breakfast and coffee, watching her family leave. Once the door closed behind them, her hand slipped into her pocket and withdrew the key she'd found before Emma arrived. The key that unlocked the door to her cell. She stared at it contemplatively as her thumb traced over the raised image of the skull in the metal…

O~U~A~T

"Emma!" James caught her arm outside before she could head down the street. "Where are you going?"

It was so strange to Emma how John could sometimes make her feel like a teenager getting caught sneaking out by her father. The alien sensation instantly put her on the defensive. "I'm a grown woman, John, I can take care of myself."

When she tried to pull away, he tightened his grip slightly. "I _know_ that, but if it has to do with Mary I want to help. I _need_ to help." James was careful to word things in a way he knew would help ease the guard she'd just thrown up.

She eyed him, he guessed that she was using her "superpower," trying to determine if he was being honest, which he was, just not sharing the _whole_ reason he wanted to go with her. "I'm going to talk to Gold," Emma finally admitted, apparently satisfied he was being truthful.

He was relieved she was willing to tell him, but his jaw locked at what she told him. It took him a few seconds of drawing deep breaths to calm the anger that had flashed through him at the name. "Let's go."

They didn't speak the entire way, determination filling the atmosphere between them.

The front of the pawn shop was empty; Emma called the proprietor's name as they made their way to the back room where they found Gold taking an old, jewel-studded, gold oil lamp from a shelf behind his work table.

"Mr. Gold."

"Just taking inventory." He turned to face the father-daughter pair. "What can I do for you, Ms. Swan and Mr. Nolan?" He settled himself into the chair behind him. "Any developments in the case I should be aware of?"

The imp _knew_, James realized, his jaw set.

"Yes," Emma stated emphatically. "Regina set her up."

"And this surprises you?" the shorter man inquired sardonically. "Show me your evidence, and we'll get this over with immediately."

"Yeah." The blonde leaned forward, planting her hands on the tabletop, and the prince suppressed the urge to pull his daughter back from Rumplestiltskin. "That's the thing. There isn't any–anything that's court-worthy. But I know it now."

"Look who's suddenly become a woman of faith." The imp's eyes cut to James, glinting craftily, before returning to Emma. "Why are you here, Ms. Swan? To spin conspiracy theories?"

"I _need_ help."

"From _me_?" Rumplestiltskin gestured to himself, a smirk growing on his face.

"Every time I've gone up against Regina, I've lost, except for one, when I became sheriff, when _you_ helped."

"As I recall, you don't exactly approve of my methods," he pointed out.

"I approve of your results," Emma countered.

Again the pawnbroker glanced at James, who was clenching his hands furiously at his sides, forcing himself to remain silent, because in this case…he honestly could say that he'd do _anything_–short of sacrificing his daughter or grandson–to save his wife. Even make a deal with the devil himself.

"And this time, I have something more important than a job. I need to save my friend." There was a hint of a quaver in Emma's voice when she spoke of Mary, telling of how much she truly cared for the other woman.

"And you're willing to go as far as it takes?" There was something in his tone that told James the imp was fishing for a particular answer.

"Farther," the blonde replied without a moment's hesitation.

The shrewd eyes shifted to the blue ones of his once-upon-a-time-captor. "Same," James informed him instantly.

Rumplestiltskin smirked, his eyes alight with glee and satisfaction. "_Now_ we're talking." He sat back, turning his attention to the lamp. "Fear not, Ms. Swan. Regina may be powerful, but something tells me you're more powerful than you know." Dark, beady eyes glittered with far too much knowledge.

James had never felt more like he'd made a deal with the devil himself, even though there hadn't been any deals struck.

O~U~A~T

Striding down the hall to the sheriff's office the three of them encountered Henry sitting in one of the chairs just outside reading his book.

"Henry. What are you doing here?" Emma frowned curiously at her son.

"I came to congratulate you," he told her, excitement bubbling in his words.

Sheriff and erstwhile deputy glanced at each other, amusement tingeing their expressions, though neither had a clue why the child would be congratulating them.

"For what?" James asked his grandson.

"Your genius plan!" he told him in a voice that indicated it should be obvious.

A bad feeling twisted the prince's stomach; his daughter crossed her arms over her chest in a gesture that told him she was feeling the same foreboding he was.

"And what plan's that, Henry?" Rumplestiltskin inquired, stepping around the other two adults and into sight.

The excitement drained from the child's face, suddenly finding his shoelaces _very_ interesting.

"Right," the imp muttered before heading into the sheriff's office.

They watched him limp off before the two adults turned back to the child.

"Sorry," Henry told them repentantly. "I thought Mr. Gold was in on it, now that he's Ms. Blanchard's lawyer."

"In on _what_?" Emma frowned at her son in confusion.

Surprise flooded the boy's face. "The escape plan."

"_Escape plan?!_" James felt panic, crushing and heady, course through him.

"Sheriff, could you join me, please?" Rumplestiltskin called from the office.

Father, daughter and grandson rushed inside…only to be met with the disheartening sight of Mary's empty cell, door standing wide open.

"She's gone," the imp stated.

James' feet carried him to the cell, reaching it first and going inside, looking around as if Mary were somehow hidden in the Spartan space.

"Henry, what did you _do_?" Emma gasped.

"Nothing!" he swore. "She was gone when I got here."

The prince turned to face his family and Rumplestiltskin.

"Her arraignment's tomorrow," the pawnbroker put in.

James swore softly under his breath.

The imp's gaze turned to the fair-haired man. "If she's not there…"

"She's a fugitive," Emma finished, scanning the cell, just as James had done. Her panicked gaze met his. "Doesn't matter if she's convicted for Kathryn or not, she's _screwed_."

He stepped forward to stand an arm's length from her. "We _have_ to find her!"

"Yeah," she agreed, spinning on her heel, the two of them nearly running into her office. "And we have to get her back here before someone notices she's missing."

"Oh, you mean Regina?" Rumplestiltskin sardonically clarified.

"The arraignment's at 8:00 a.m. I'm _sure_ she'll be here bright and early to celebrate her victory!" She grabbed her gun from a drawer in her desk. She surreptitiously pulled out James' as well, pressing it into his hands as she passed him, muttering for only him to hear. "Just in case." He nodded in thanks, clipping the holster to his waistband.

"You have until 8:00 a.m. then," Rumplestiltskin once again stated the obvious.

"Uh, what about me? How can I help?" Henry eagerly inquired.

"Go home," Emma told her son firmly.

"Emma." The boy hurried up to his mother. "If she leaves Storybrooke–"

"Not now, Henry," she countered, too focused on her missing roommate to deal with Operation Cobra. "Come on." She steered him toward the door, James right beside them.

The boy turned back to his grandfather, eyes pleading. When Emma was called back by Rumplestiltskin, James continued with Henry into the hall–even though it was difficult to let her near the man alone, the prince could tell his grandson needed him.

Once they were a ways down the hall James pulled them to a stop and went down on one knee so that he was eye to eye with his grandson. "Don't worry, Henry, Emma and I will find Mary and bring her back safely."

"But what if she tries to leave? _No one_ can leave Storybrooke!" The child's eyes were wide with worry for the woman who was his teacher and grandmother, though she didn't remember that last part yet.

James had rested both hands on Henry's shoulders, he squeezed them gently. "Well, then she probably won't get far and we'll be able to find her and bring her back more easily," he pointed out, trying to lighten the situation.

His grandson gazed at him levelly. "Mrs. Nolan tried to leave…"

The sandy-haired man didn't know how to respond reassuringly to that…

"Let's go," Emma called out as she strode toward them.

Grandfather and grandson rose and followed her outside.

"I'll take Henry home and then start searching toward the north," James volunteered, guiding the boy toward his truck.

"Thanks." Emma swung into her yellow Bug. "I'll head south. We should try and check the woods on the way out of town." She paused, apparently thinking of something. "Could you check out you two's usual haunts? Like the Toll Bridge?"

"I'll head over there after I drop off Henry," he promised, ducking into the cab of his truck.

O~U~A~T

Henry stared up at the imposing mayor's mansion, his eyes slid back to James mournfully. "Do I _really_ have to go back there?"

Oh, how he wanted to say "no." The prince ran a hand over his grandson's head. "I wish you didn't, but..."

"But the law says I _have_ to," the boy finished bitterly.

The crestfallen expression on Henry's face broke James' heart. Damn Regina for what she'd done! He'd never believed that Snow deserved the full weight of blame that her stepmother placed on her shoulders–she'd been only a _child_ who didn't know better!–however he could've at last relatively accepted her actions against himself and Snow, if they hadn't extended to harm their child, grandchild and the _entire_ populace of their _world_.

For a moment James considered how different their lives would be if they hadn't been forced from their home: Emma would have been raised by Snow and himself, loved and adored from the moment she was conceived. They probably would have had other children, they'd both always wanted a big family. If Emma had still had Henry out of wedlock he would have been loved just as devotedly by his grandparents. James and Snow would have done everything they could to help Emma raise her child. And meanwhile the prince would've hunted down the man who had dishonored her so and make his displeasure clear. He would have made sure that if she ever got married that the man _truly_ loved her and Henry; that he'd be a wonderful husband and father. He wouldn't let _any_ child of his settle for less than someone who made them truly happy and loved them entirely.

He gazed into his grandchild's sad eyes. He'd missed _everything_, he hadn't gotten to share any of the moments a parent looked forward to with Emma, or Henry for that matter. James' heart ached with the longing for everything that he should have had, that they _all_ should've had.

The prince swallowed hard, wanting more than anything to just not let Henry go, but as with Mary he had no choice… Gods, he _hated_ this world!

He squeezed Henry's shoulder, managing a smile as best he could. "We'll find Mary…everything'll be ok."

The boy forced a smile before climbing out of the truck, closing the door behind him and dashing up to the house.

James didn't think that it was possible to hate this world any more than he did, hate how powerless he was here, how helpless he felt to protect his family.

O~U~A~T

James' head swung back and forth as he drove, blue eyes searching ceaselessly for any sign of Mary. He'd gone by the Toll Bridge, the pond he took her skating on for Valentine's Day, and a few of their other favorite places, but there'd been no indication that she'd been to any of them. He'd driven through most of the northern part of Storybrooke, even gotten out and searched a few parts of the forest on foot. His panic grew with each minute that passed without him finding her or Emma calling to say that she'd done so.

The ring of his cell phone broke through the monotony of the low drone of the truck's engine and tires running over the road. He grabbed it from the seat beside him, glancing at the screen to see that it wasn't one of his, admittedly few, contacts, before flipping it open. "Hello?"

"John, it's Emma."

Instantly he was fully alert, hope threading through him. "Did you find Mary?"

"No, but I need your help!" Her voice was barely above a harsh whisper; instantly internal alarms began blaring in James' mind.

"What's wrong?" he asked urgently.

"I was drugged and am being held in a mansion near the edge of town…I need you to come help me!"

"Where are you?"

She rattled off the address; thankfully he knew where it was, a giant mansion he'd noted during his search that was seemingly in the middle of nowhere. He braked and jerked the wheel around, U-turning in the direction of the house; he then hit the gas and fishtailed off. "I'll be there in five minutes," he promised his daughter.

"Thanks." The line went dead after that one word; James hoped that it was of her own volition and not her captor's…

O~U~A~T

James parked the truck about a block away from the house, not wanting to alert Emma's captor to his presence. Cutting through the woods and yard around the house, sticking to the shadows as much as possible he finally reached what appeared to be the backdoor of the massive residence. Drawing his weapon, he held his breath and slowly turned the doorknob, fervently praying that the house wasn't outfitted with an alarm system, a relieved breath whooshing from his lungs when the door cracked open sliently. James pushed it open with equal care and caution, tensed, waiting for it to squeak, but apparently whoever lived here kept the hinges in good repair, they were silent.

Easing the door closed again, his gaze scanned the dim interior, which appeared to be the kitchen, pots and pans hanging from the rack over the butcher's block like alarm bells, waiting to simply be struck. The prince kept his tread as light as possible on the tile floor, for once thankful that the soles of his boots here were rubber rather than the hard leather of their own world.

The entrance hall was just as empty and dim; James peered up the stairs, slowly shifting his weight onto the first step experimentally, not even the slightest give in the step–apparently the owner was fastidious about the upkeep of his home…

Thankfully the upstairs hallway was carpeted, muffling any noise his footsteps made. As he made his way down the hall he carefully opened each door a crack to peer inside. The first two were unremarkable. But the third…

A light shone from under the door, more promising than the first two which had been dark and empty. A shadow passed under the crack; James tightened his grip on the gun while his other hand curled around the doorknob. After a heartbeat of bracing himself he flung the door open, gun pointed into the room.

He cursed as a hard object was brought down on his wrist, causing his hand to go numb and the gun to fall from his suddenly non-responsive fingers. He turned to find a pistol leveled at him by a well-dressed brown haired man, who had been holding Emma trapped against him, hand over her mouth, but suddenly threw her at James. He reached out and steadied his daughter before she could slam into him.

"Emma!" He braced her with his hands on her upper arms, eyes scanning her over, making sure that she was unhurt. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah." Her eyes cut to the man with the gun as she straightened up; reluctantly James allowed his hands to fall away, not wanting to make Emma any more uncomfortable in the situation than she already was. Her gaze went back to his. "Mary's here."

He felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. "Is she ok?"

"Scared," she glanced accusingly at their captor again, "and tied up in a room, but otherwise fine."

James turned his attention to the dark-clothed man, still pointing a gun at both of them. Blue eyes flicked to the floor, looking for his gun, finding it halfway across the room, too far for them to reach without the risk of one of them being shot by the other man.

"Well, well…what a _charming_ family reunion," the unknown man mocked.

James shifted his body so that his body was between Emma and the man, or more specifically the gun berrel. "Who are you? Why are you doing this?"

"I'm Jefferson, and I'm doing this because _she_," he pointed the gun at Emma, "is the only one that can _make my hat work_!"

"He thinks he's the Mad Hatter," Emma elaborated to James under her breath.

It took the sandy-haired man several moments of mental searching to recall Mary's mention of _Alice in Wonderland_ and the Mad Hatter, stuck in a perpetual tea party.

The gun steadied on the pair, the man's jaw set furiously. "My _name_ is Jefferson," he bit out between his gritted teeth. "Now," he grabbed Emma by the shoulder and forced her to the table, "_make it work_!" The muzzle now swung toward James. "Or Daddy here won't be keeping _his_ head…"

Emma's eyes went to James, full of worry. "Mary," she mouthed to him.

He nodded, eyes going to "Jefferson." "Please, our friend–"

"You mean _your wife_," the madman corrected him, though James was beginning to wonder just how mad the man _really_ was.

The prince's blue gaze flicked to his daughter before returning to their captor. "I certainly hope she will be someday."

"_No!_" Jefferson stalked toward him, the gun leveled at James' chest. "You _know_," he snarled. "You _remember_!" The muzzle stopped inches from his plaid-covered sternum. "I _know_ you know! I know that you remember _exactly_ who _you_ are, who _she_ is," the gun waved in Emma's direction, "and who 'Mary,'" he said the name mockingly, making it obvious how real he believed the name to be, "is!"

"I _told_ you, it's just a _story_!" Emma shouted, though their captor's eyes never left the other man and James didn't dare look away from the "Hatter."

"You know who _she_ is," Jefferson continued, indicating Emma while still speaking to James. "Who she is to _you_! Who she is to that other woman! Who she is to _all of us_!" He drew the gun closer into his body, making sure James couldn't grab it while he took a step closer. "And yet, you do _nothing_ to make her _realize_ it! _Nothing_ to make her make her _wake up_!"

James' hands curled into fists at his sides, not allowing himself to look at his daughter, afraid he might betray himself. "You believe that I'm Prince Charming from Henry's fairy tale book and that I remember being so?"

"I don't _believe_," the dark-haired man snapped, "I _know_!"

"Regardless," the prince calmly interjected. "If you believe that of me, and by extension you believe that Mary is my wife–my _true love_–Snow White, and Emma is my daughter…you _have_ to know that I will do _everything_ in my power to protect them from _anything_."

"And you can _all_ go home, nice and safe," Jefferson began in a normal tone before screaming, "_after_ she makes the hat work, I get my daughter and we _go home_!"

With that last word he was clocked from behind and fell to the ground. James had distracted their captor long enough for Emma to grab the telescope from its stand and sneak up behind him. The prince snatched up the gun as he and Emma bolted from the room.

The blonde wrenched open a door down the hall revealing Mary bound to a chair. James ignored the fury that bubbled up in him at seeing his wife that way and began helping Emma free his love.

Her eyes went wide at something behind them as he pulled the gag from her mouth. "Look out!"

James shot up and begun to spin around, raising the pistol, but mid-turn something cracked hard against the back of his skull, his vision went blurry, the world was spinning and his ears rung; he barely felt it when he hit the floor. The sounds of fighting around him were muffled and distorted, he was having trouble clearing his head enough to focus.

"John!" Hands were on him, he tensed but then almost instantly relaxed, his body recognizing Snow's touch, the feeling of her small, capable hands sent a wave of calm through him.

He opened his eyes, but his vision was blurred. "Sn-Mary?" His hand blindly reached for her, she caught it and his fingers tightened around hers, desperately afraid that if he let go she'd disappear.

Her other hand moved to his head, fingers gently moving over the scalp; he hissed out a breath when she encountered a tender spot. "I'm sorry." She brushed an apologetic kiss to his forehead. "There's a nasty lump there, we need to get you to the hospital, you might have a concussion."

"Can you stand?" Emma inquired from his other side.

"Hold on," he mumbled, opening his eyes again. It took a few minutes of blinking and squinting but finally his wife and daughter came into focus in the dim room. "Ok."

With the two women's help he slowly sat up–he had to stop a couple of times, the spinning and pain nearly making him vomit–and then even more haltingly rose to his feet. Once he was standing he looked around the room–the orbit it began to take making him regret the action a moment later, forcing him to close his eyes for a moment and swallow back bile.

"Where's that Jefferson guy?" he finally asked once he was sure what was left of his lunch wasn't going to be making a reappearance.

Emma and Snow–_damn,_ that hit was really messing with his thought processes, he kept thinking about her as "Snow" and nearly slipped up a few moments earlier, he _really_ needed to focus before he said something he couldn't take back–each took one of his arms and placed them over their shoulders, helping him remain upright–because walking on his own right now was _not_ happening…

"Mary kicked him out the window, but it looks like he somehow disappeared before he hit the ground," Emma grunted as they made their way down the hall.

James had to close his eyes on the stairs and trust the two women, because the vertigo nearly had him falling forward.

To distract himself he asked, "Mary, how–" he winced at a particularly painful spear of pain through his head, "how did you get out of the cell?"

Her fingers fisted in his shirt against his side. "There was a key under my pillow…I thought that you might have put it there…"

Regardless of the disorientation having his eyes open caused him his blue irises met her green ones, brow furrowed. "Why would I do that?"

She shook her head, pressing her face momentarily into his shoulder. "I don't know, things have been so confusing and crazy since this all started…" Her gaze returned to his, expression turning pleading. "I was planning on calling you once I was out of town."

They'd exited the house and reached where the shattered glass from the window littered the lawn, Jefferson's hat lying upended among the shards. Emma moved away after making sure that Mary could support James on her own. All three searched their surroundings as they approached the hat, but there was no sign of the man who just a short while ago had held them captive.

"There's no sign of him anywhere." The sheriff's eyes still scanned the area.

"Who was he?" Mary looked at the other two inquiringly.

Emma's eyes cut to James before going back to the top hat she was turning over in her hands. "A very lonely man." She frowned and turned back to Mary. "By the way, have you been taking kickboxing classes and not telling me about it?"

Emerald eyes went wide, she seemed at a loss for words for a moment, as if something was niggling at the back of her mind before she stammered out, "I-I have…no idea where that came from…"

Her tone and expression gave James pause, sending a jolt of hope through him, as she began to urge them all toward the front of the house where they found Emma's yellow Bug covered with a tarp.

Their daughter swept the cover off the vehicle and yanked the door open, relief obvious as she straightened back up and held the keys aloft with a triumphant grin at the couple.

James heard Mary–his head must be clearing, because it was easier to think of her as that again–sigh with relief, but as Emma approached them, eyes not meeting hers and posture tense, he almost felt his wife deflate.

Jade eyes studied the lines in the driveway. "So, Sheriff, I guess you'll be taking me back now."

The prince's arm tightened instinctively around his love, jaw tightening.

Their daughter glanced toward the road before looking back at them and tossing the keys to Mary. "Here. Both of you, go."

The dark-haired woman looked up at the blonde, wide-eyed and almost hopeful. "You want me to run?"

"No," she countered miserably, "but it's your choice."

James wanted to say something, but somehow felt that the best person to convince Mary to stay was their daughter.

The sheriff took a step closer to her friend. "Just know something–running ain't easy. I've done my share of it. And once you go, there's no stopping."

"Emma," Mary nearly gasped out, fear evident in her voice, "nearly _everyone_ thinks I killed Kathryn!"

"Mary Margaret, you _have_ to believe in me!" Emma begged. "You have to trust me!" Her voice was just an inch away from breaking. "I _know_ it seems impossible, but I _can_ get you out of this!"

"Why is it so important to you what happens to me?" Mary sounded truly puzzled by this.

"Because when Regina framed me and you bailed me out, I asked you why and you said you trusted me." Her eyes were red-rimmed and wet. "And then when I wanted to leave Storybrooke 'cause I thought it was best for Henry, you told me I needed to stay because that was the best for him." She was an inch away from the letting the tears pooled in her eyes fall. "And I realized all my life I have been alone. Walls up. _Nobody's_ ever been there for me except for you two." She included James in her gaze as she said that. "And I _can't_ lose that! I _cannot_ lose my family!"

The breath was stolen from James' body at hearing his daughter actually refer to them as family; he had to swallow hard several times to fight back his own tears and to force back the desperate desire to pull his child into a hug.

"Family?" Mary's soft, tremulous voice was full of burgeoning hope, so indicative of her own desperate desire for family.

"Friends…" Their daughter shifted uncomfortably, though he could still see that she was clinging on to them and the love and acceptance they represented. "Whatever." She shoved her hands in her back pockets. "You know what I mean." After a beat she met Mary's eyes again. "Wouldn't you rather face this together than alone?"

James watched a smile slowly growing on his beloved's face; she held out the keys to Emma, drawing a relieved breath from his lungs.

When Emma reached to take them Mary caught her hand and held on, the blonde returned the grasp. They shared a warm, quiet smile, cementing what was already one of the three strongest relationships Emma had ever had.

The soft tolling of the clock tower bell drew all of their attention. Their grins fell and Emma's wide worried gaze snapped to James'. "The arraignment."

O~U~A~T

Emma had broken probably every single posted speed limit, and blown through every stop sign where no one was present on the way back to the station. James had acquiesced when his daughter had ordered him to stay in the car, his head was throbbing so moving wasn't something he particularly wanted to do. She then hustled Mary back into the station and the cell; after that she returned to the Bug and announced that she'd promised her roommate to take him to the hospital directly, _no arguments_.

James had chuckled, inwardly musing that Emma was so much like her mother.

The doctors had checked him over, poked around his head, making sure that he hadn't fractured his skull–thankfully he hadn't–before decreeing that he had a concussion and should stay in the hospital. James' input had been, "not a chance in _hell_." He had a strong, innate aversion to hospitals, he'd learned, plus the fact that he didn't trust the people here not to be possibly working with Regina, he certainly didn't want to risk being at her mercy again…

After they reluctantly agreed to release him from their care if someone was able to stay with him, his cerulean eyes had cut to his daughter pleadingly. Emma had grimaced but told them that he lived in her apartment and that she'd keep an eye on him. The doctors had been extremely displeased with his leaving, especially with his history of being in a coma and "amnesia," but they didn't really have much choice in the matter.

Emma had wanted to take him directly home to rest, but he'd insisted on grabbing something for both of them and Mary to eat, none of them having had a proper meal since lunch the day before. They grabbed three meals to-go from Granny's. James was grateful that the pain relievers the doctors had given him had dulled the pain in his head _substantially_ and that the world was no longer spinning like one of those merry-go-rounds he'd seen in this world. Hopefully it would remain so because he needed to eat and had no desire to throw his lunch right back up again.

When they entered the station Mary looked up from where she'd been reading the Daily Mirror. James scowled at the headline: "Heartless" with a picture of her right under it. "Why are you reading that trash?" He reached through the bars to hand his wife the bag of food.

She shrugged, tossing the paper aside and moving to the bars. "Makes for good fiction I suppose…" She accepted the meal he handed her; her fingers reached up to brush along his temple. "What did the doctors say?"

"He has a concussion," Emma spoke up from where she was sorting through some mail that had been delivered. "And they wanted him to stay overnight for observation."

Mary's dark brows pulled together, disapproving gaze turning from the blonde to her lover. "Then why aren't you there?"

He opened his mouth to defend himself.

"Because he's a stubborn male who hates doctors," their daughter quickly replied.

James rolled his eyes, ignoring the slight twinge of pain that caused, turning to Emma. "I don't _hate_ doctors."

Emma cocked an eyebrow. "The death glare you sent Whale would suggest otherwise."

"John," Mary said reproachfully, "was it really necessary to glare at Dr. Whale?"

He scowled. "Oh, _that_ has little to do with him being a doctor."

His wife blushed brilliantly. "You can't go around glaring at every man I ever dated."

Cerulean eyes snapped to hers, gaze sharp. "'_Every man?_' Just how many guys are we talking about?"

Mary rolled her eyes at him. "Emma," she looked past him at their daughter, "remind him that he can't go around beating up or arresting people just for having dated me."

When no response came and James saw Mary's expression become worried he turned to face his daughter as well.

Emma was staring down at a sheaf of papers in her hand, disbelief painted across her expression.

"Emma, what's wrong?" James' brow furrowed in concern.

Slowly the sheriff's eyes lifted to them. "It's the report from the lab on the knife. There were fingerprints on it…"

"Oh, gods," Mary breathed; even though she hadn't even told them who the prints belonged to she could tell from Emma's expression it wasn't good. Her stomach roiled ominously.

Emma's gaze went to James. "They're John's."

O~U~A~T

Soooooooo…what do you guys think? Did you see that last part coming? I was trying VERY hard to make it a surprise. I don't like it when my stories get too predictable, so I try to throw curveballs occasionally. I hope you all liked it! Thank you SO MUCH for reading and let me know what you think! Now, I'd better get to work on Once Upon a Time…and Again before my readers for that kill me over the cliffhanger I left them with! XD


	26. Stoned

Sorry about taking so long to finish this chapter, especially with how short it is, but I had writers block for quite a while and it was only coming out in bits and pieces. It has been quite a…trip to write. XD I hope that you have fun reading this chapter, when I had the inspiration to write it was a _very_ entertaining.

**Sassy18**, thank you for your help, and _encouragement_ in certain portions of the chapter. ;-} You helped me make it even more entertaining.

O~U~A~T

**Stoned**

The discovery of John's fingerprints on the knife threw everyone involved in the case into an uproar. The District Attorney demanded that the deputy be questioned, but Emma had put her foot down, insisting that he be given time to recover from his concussion, or at _least_ enough time for the drugs to work their way out of his system. She held firm on the fact that she wouldn't allow _anyone_ to be taken advantage of in such a way, and he could hardly be considered properly coherent while on strong painkillers paired with the concussion.

The DA, Spencer, had been livid at her refusal, demanding that John at least be detained in the meantime; Emma had been _very_ reluctant, but ultimately acquiesced and proceeded to lock him in the only other cell she had, right next to Mary. Spencer had thrown a fit, saying that they couldn't jail people who were possibly co-conspirators in a murder next to each other, where they could easily converse.

The Sheriff leveled him with a droll glare. "And where the hell else am I going to put him?"

Lips pursed, the man had glared at her several moments longer before striding furiously out, snarling that he'd return first thing the next morning.

Emma's hands were clenched at her sides, knuckles white with absolute fury.

"Emma."

She turned to John to find his gaze fixed on hers, steady and calm.

"It's going to be all right." His promise was resolute, without even a shadow of doubt, matching the faith she could see in his eyes.

_How the _hell _was it that _John_, the one currently trapped in a jail cell for a crime he did _not _commit, was comforting her, the one standing outside said cell that should be comforting him?_

Despite the cynic in her that was screaming, demanding to know how _any_ of this could possibly be all right given how bad things looked at the moment, another part of her soul latched onto his determined words and the comforting expression in his eyes. She'd experienced such moments before with John, feelings of safety and reassuring steady strength, somehow knowing intrinsically that there was nothing he wouldn't do to protect her from anything and everything.

"…_you_ have _to know that I will do _everything _in my power to protect them from_ anything_."_

The blonde shook her head, clearing the memory of what John had said to Jefferson, telling herself that he'd only been playing to the madman's delusions to save her and Mary and that he'd do that for any friend. "Not if I don't find some evidence to clear _both _of your names," she countered grimly.

John gave her a gentle smile. "Just do your job to the best of your ability."

Emma narrowed her eyes; his words, tone, actions...all of it bothered her. Something was off… She opened her mouth, what she was going to say not even _she'd_ ever know because Mr. Gold chose that moment to enter and her jaw shut with an audible click of teeth.

"I hear that there's another suspect…"

O~U~A~T

With the drugs in his system and the concussion, James had barely managed to keep himself from snarling at King George, DA Spencer here apparently. As it was, he audibly choked back the words he wanted to say but couldn't stop himself from glaring at the man the entire time.

After the fury he felt toward George, the imp's presence brought on little more than a twinge of annoyance. And he was thoroughly relieved to know that his plan was now fully in motion.

"Now they think _John_ killed her!" Mary was so distressed by his detainment, continually casting fretful glances at her lover, who attempted to look at her reassuringly but the drugs were increasingly muddling things in his head. James wouldn't be surprised if his expression was looking more and more like a dopey smile.

Rumplestiltskin's gaze went to the erstwhile deputy, who, through the drugged haze he was in, was having more trouble than usual reading the other man's expression. _I should probably be more worried about that than I am,_ James inwardly mused.

"Has he been questioned?" The lawyer turned to Emma who folded her arms across her chest, chin lifted defiantly.

"No, he has a concussion and the doctors gave him drugs for the pain. He won't be answering _any _questions until he's cleared medically." Her tone brooked no argument.

"Very well," the crafty man easily agreed. "But as soon as he is fit, I will be filing to have the charges against my client dropped. Pending the outcome of his interrogation, of course…"

"Yup…leave it all to Rumply."

O~U~A~T

They all turned at John's slurring voice to see a wide and rather goofy grin on his face.

"John?" Mary asked carefully. Once he'd turned to face her, after a longer than normal pause between when she called his name and he responded, she continued. "Are you all right?"

"'M fine, darlin'." He waved off the concern in her voice.

Emma stepped closer to his cell. "John," he turned to her after another delay in his response time, "what did the hospital give you?"

He shrugged carelessly. "Dunno. S'ok, I'm feelin' fiiiiiiiine."

"Might I recommend calling for a doctor to check him out to be sure?" Gold offered in his usual understated, wry manner.

"Yeah…" Emma continued to eye her stoned deputy warily as she picked up the phone and dialed Storybrooke Hospital.

John began humming an unrecognizable tune, eyes drifting around the room aimlessly.

Mary turned to Emma. "Maybe you should tell them to hurry?"

O~U~A~T

"Apparently he's had an, uh…unexpected reaction to the medication we gave him at the hospital." Whale fidgeted with his stethoscope, eyeing John warily, who was still pretty out of it, alternating between a silly grin on his face and glaring rather fiercely at the doctor.

"Well, shouldn't he be in the hospital?" Mary demanded, watching the man she loved worriedly.

The doctor hardly even glanced in her direction. "Normally I would recommend his being taken to the hospital for observation overnight but," Whale gave the bars of the cell a nervous look, "we don't exactly…ah…have the…capacity to…"

Emma rolled her eyes, further unimpressed by the man who was supposedly the foremost physician in Storybrooke. "Fine," she cut off his halting ramble of excuses as to why they couldn't have a "murder suspect" in the hospital, "your butt's covered. I'll stay the night and watch him." She stepped aside, holding the cell door open. "Get out."

"Thank you. Check on him every couple of hours, he should be just fine by morning." Whale hurriedly gathered his instruments, shoving them into his bag. "If you have any questions or need help just call the hospital," he told her as he scurried past the Sheriff, wasting no time in booking it out of the office.

The two women turned, gazes meeting, neither particularly thrilled with the doctor's reaction to the situation or ensuing actions.

"I don' like 'im," John added bluntly.

Mary bit down on her lips, trying not to laugh at the reminder of their earlier conversation about his dislike of the aforementioned doctor.

Emma smirked at her deputy. "That makes three of us." She closed the cell door, asking, "Do you need anything from the apartment?"

He shrugged, drugged out smile returning to his face and gaze going to Mary, staring at her rather dreamily.

One eyebrow rose on Emma's forehead. "Right." She went to John's desk and lifted the phone's handset, dialing a familiar number. "Hey, Ruby it's Emma…"

"Oh, my God, Emma! Is it true John's been arrested for Kathryn's murder?!"

The sheriff winced. "John's not arrested, he's being detained until we can question him."

"_Until_ you can question him?" Confusion was thick in the waitress' voice.

"He's got a concussion and he's having a weird reaction to the drugs they gave him at the hospital, but that's not exactly why I called."

Ruby was instantly on alert. "What's up?"

"I was wondering if you could run a couple of errands for me?" Her eyes cut to her worried roommate and doped up deputy. "With John in the condition he's in I can't leave the office unless it's an emergency. Could you grab a few things for him and me from the apartment? And possibly bring dinner over later on?"

"Of course!" she immediately agreed. "I'll let Granny know what's going on and head on over to get the key from you."

"Thanks, Ruby."

"No problem!"

O~U~A~T

It was about five minutes after Ruby dashed out of the police station, their apartment key in hand, that the door banged open again. Emma squeezed her eyes tightly shut, begging someone, _anyone_, to save her from what was to come, not needing to turn around to know who had just entered.

"What is this about you detaining David Nolan?" Madame Mayor snarled.

After a deep, bracing breath, Emma stood from her deputy's desk, and turned to face Regina. "_John's_ fingerprints were found on the murder weapon. I'm detaining him at the request of the DA until we can question him," she explained with exaggerated patience.

The mayor stalked up to her. "Well, why the hell haven't you questioned him?" She planted one perfectly manicured hand on her hip.

The sheriff crossed her arms over her chest, posture firm, more than ready to do battle with her nemesis for her friend. "Because he has a concussion and is still drugged up from what the hospital gave him, and I have _no_ intention of letting him be questioned by _anyone_ in such a compromised state."

Regina's lips compressed into a razor-thin line, eyes cutting to the occupants of the two cells. "Why have you placed him next to _her_, if he's under suspicion for the same crime?"

Emma could tell she was grasping for some kind of control in this situation, but the younger woman intended to make it _crystal_ clear that, in this case, she didn't have any, for once. "Where else could I lock him up?"

"Oh, I don't know," the dark-haired woman began sarcastically, "maybe the hospital, where a person in his condition _should_ be?"

She cocked one blonde eyebrow. "You'd be right…if they had the facilities for attending a detainee, which they don't. I'm staying the night here to keep an eye on him, upon Dr. Whale's recommendation."

Regina's furious gaze flew over the three people in the room, Emma stubborn and challenging before her; Mary standing at the bars between her cell and John's, hardly noticing the mayor for once, too worried for him; and John, whom Emma was fairly sure didn't even register Regina's presence. She cast one last frustrated, impotent sneer at the sheriff before storming out.

Emma slowly released the breath she hadn't even fully realized she'd been holding, she slowly turned to her two friends. There was a thoughtful, drugged frown on John's face.

"Did th' temp'rter droop a lil while 'go?"

Nothing could have stopped the laughter that the sheriff attempted to choke back.

Mary clung to the bars to keep herself upright from her mirth, before reaching through them to rub his shoulder. "Just an arctic breeze blowing through."

"Oh," he mumbled. After a beat he turned to Mary who was crouched just behind him at the bars, drugged grin on his face. "Hiiiiiiiiiii..."

Mary had to bite down on her lips before responding, "Hi."

Emma snorted. "He is _so _stoned."

John turned an addled yet disapproving look on her. "Ya shoud'n talk 'bout yer fadder like dat."

The blonde's eyebrows shot up before her gaze went to her roommate's. "Well, A: he's been around Henry too much, and B: the drugs are really getting to him."

He started swatting at the thin air. "Tell the dr'gns t' go 'way. Too tired t' slay 'em."

Even though two of them were locked in cells and under suspicion of committing murder, neither of the women could stop themselves from laughing.

"Is this still within 'normal' for his 'reaction,' do you think?" Mary was working hard to choke back her laughter as she ran her fingers soothing through John's hair, turning to look at Emma inquiringly.

Her friend shrugged, still amused. "I remember when a teenager in one of my old foster homes got her wisdom teeth removed, she talked the strangest nonsense for _hours_, including about pink, flying elephants. I'm guessing this isn't too different."

Mary was still torn between worry and amusement, but turned her attention back to the man whom she'd gathered into her arms as much as possible with bars between them.

John was gazing up at her, grinning and then the smile fell and his brow furrowed, one finger reaching out to trace the circles under her eyes. "No sleep."

"Don't worry," her hand stroked over his cheek, "I won't sleep, I'll stay right here with you."

"No." His voice was muzzy but the shake of his head was firm. "_You_ sleep." He clumsily pressed a hand against the side of her face. "Need 'leep."

Touched by his concern, even when he was loopy on drugs, a smile curled her lips. "I'll try," she promised.

John turned to his boss. "Em, make sure she 'leep."

The sheriff attempted to suppress the smirk that wanted to cross her face at Mary rolling her eyes. "Don't worry, John. I'll make sure Mary gets at least _some_ sleep tonight."

He seemed satisfied with this promise and turned back to Mary, his fingers now playing with the ends of her hair. "Short…" he commented before he started humming an unknown tune, still fiddling with his lover's hair.

Emma had to sit down–though it was more like collapsing–in a chair before she fell down feeling lightheaded from having to hold back so much laughter.

O~U~A~T

The alarm on the table beside Emma's head where she was camping out on the couch she'd pulled into her office from the main area beeped insistently, reminding her that she needed to get up and check on John. She swatted the annoying, but necessary, thing off, grumbling as she forced herself from her warm sleeping bag Ruby had thoughtfully brought. Blinking blearily at the glowing red digital numbers that read 3:46 a.m. she grumbled more about the obscene time, grabbed the cell keys from her desk, and shuffled to the door, opening it and heading over to John's cell where he was passed out.

When she'd woken him just before midnight he'd merely cracked an eye before shutting it again and rolling over to fall back asleep; at a quarter to two he actually said her name and mumbled a "night" before going back to sleep, hopefully that progress was a sign that the drugs were finally starting to wear off.

The sheriff had chosen to sleep in her office because she didn't want her alarm disturbing Mary, and she moved around the main part of the sheriff's office as quietly as possible. She carefully turned the key in the lock to John's cell, pulling the door open with equal caution. Keeping her tread light, Emma moved to the cot and crouched down at John's side, gently shaking his shoulder. "John."

He stirred, grunting something unintelligible but remained asleep.

"John." She shook him again, more firmly this time, saying his name a little louder.

Frowning, he blinked his eyes open. "Em? 'S wrong?"

"Nothing," she assured him. "How are you feeling?"

"Sleepy."

Her mouth tucked into a half-smile. "Well, I'll let you get back to sleep." She stood, moving back to the door.

"Mm…thanks." His voice was still slurring, but he seemed at least a little more lucid. He rolled on his side, facing toward Mary's cell. The dark-haired woman was lying on her side, facing toward him as well. He lay staring at her, blinking lazily. "Sh' so b'utiful."

A single amused eyebrow rose on Emma's forehead. "Yes, she is." It was a struggle to keep her laughter in check. Oh, her deputy was doing better but he was still most _definitely_ stoned.

"B'ut'ful day I met 'er."

"Mm…" Emma absently agreed, though mostly because what else could you do with someone doped up like he was?

"Beaut'ful day I married her…"

The blonde froze mid-way through locking the door.

"Both cer'monies," he continued.

Her eyes were locked on her friend's lax form. "John, what are you talking about?"

"Firs' time fer my mom, sec'nd fer th' kingd'm." His brow furrowed. "Why y' callin' me 'John?'"

Emma's free hand clenched around one of the bars. "What should I call you?"

"Pe'ple call me James…"

Her heart was pounding, a roaring resounding in her ears.

"Yer mom calls me 'Charming.'"

O~U~A~T

Yes, I know, it's _another_ evil cliff hanger, but I couldn't help myself, it was just too good of one! Dealing with a drugged up James was _very_ fun and funny! I know it's a short chapter and sparse in some parts but everything in it was leading up to that reveal at the end…which is going to be coming to play soon. I hope that you guys liked it even though it was short! Thank you for reading! :-D


	27. Aftermath

I'm sorry that the update took a while, at first the muse wasn't very cooperative then my grandfather passed away on the first of last month, so inspiration wasn't forthcoming for a while. Then a week or so ago the muse wouldn't shut up. XD Thank you everyone for your support! :-D Well, here is the chapter!

I dedicate this chapter to my grandfather, a wonderful, loving man whom I miss but can remember with a smile and often a laugh. I love you and miss you, Bopa! :-) Thank you, Lord, for the 28 years 8 months and 14 days I got to have with him!

To my wonderful beta, formerly Sassy1988, SassySnow1988 (you need to go over and read her stories and check out her tumblr! XD) thank you for sticking with me through the fretting, the crying, the laughing, the insanity! You absolutely ROCK, dartie!

O~U~A~T

**Aftermath**

When James blinked his eyes open it was only to immediately shut them again at the piercing pain from the light pouring in through the station's windows.

"John!"

He managed to squint in the direction of his wife's voice. "Sssss…Mary?"

Relief flooded her face. "We were getting worried. We've been wondering when you'd wake up."

James groaned, pressing the heel of his palm to his forehead. "What the hell happened? I feel like someone's using my head as a drum."

"Drug hangovers can be a real bitch." Emma's half-sardonic, half-sympathetic voice drew his attention.

"Drug hangover?"

"The medication they gave you at the hospital for your concussion," Mary elaborated from her spot gripping the bars between their cells. "You had an unexpected reaction to it."

Their daughter snorted as she approached James' cell. "Or Whale just messed up on the dosing and was trying to cover his ass." She handed him a glass of water, holding out two small white pills in her hand.

He eyed them warily before meeting her gaze.

"Just some Tylenol for your headache," the blonde assured him.

With a thank you, he popped the pills into his mouth and gratefully downed the entire glass, only realizing just how parched he was once the liquid touched his lips.

Stepping back from the cell, she crossed her arms. "You were flying higher than a kite most of yesterday and last night. Do you remember?"

James scrubbed a hand across his face as he moved to his wife's side and took one of her hands, needing her touch to ground himself. "No…not really…" he answered honestly.

Mary slipped her free hand between the bars to run her fingers through his cropped hair. "What _do_ you remember?"

A thoughtful frown crossed his expression. "We came back here from the hospital and found out my fingerprints were the ones on the knife…" He took a deep breath, trying to reorder his thoughts. "Then G–the DA showed up… Things start getting fuzzy around then…" His brow furrowed with the effort of digging into his memory through the lingering haze of the drugs. "I think I remember…Gold," he had to stop himself from calling him Rumplestiltskin, "showing up but it gets _really_ blurry at that point."

Emma nodded, hands now on her hips, thumb running over the badge on her belt, a subtle nervous habit she'd developed since joining the Sheriff's Department. "That's when you started to act drugged-up."

A frission of fear shot through James. "What'd I say?" It was a struggle to keep the worry out of his voice. Gods, what had he revealed?!

"Mostly nonsense, stuff about dragons. You called Mr. Gold 'Rumply' for some reason." Loving amusement filled Mary's face. "You were also very flirtatious and concerned for me. It was rather sweet."

He grinned, hiding his relief. "Good, I've never been high before, at least as far as I remember, so I didn't know what I would be like."

Emma cleared her throat, moving over to James' desk. "I'll call the hospital and have them send someone to check you over."

James frowned. "Can you try to get someone other than Whale?"

"We'll see who's available." She kept her attention on the phone and the number she was dialing. "Your breakfast is at the foot of your bed."

He turned to see a bag and to-go cup of coffee–presumably from Granny's–sitting where she'd indicated. His stomach gave a pointedly loud growl, drawing a laugh from Mary.

"You haven't really had a meal in almost 24 hours. You hardly paid any attention to lunch and were passed completely out by dinner," she explained as he sat down on the cot and opened the bag.

James gave her a grin. "That certainly explains why I'm starving." He took several ravenous bites of the breakfast sandwich he found inside before his stomach's complaining quieted a bit and he turned his attention to the coffee. Just the scent wafting from the cup focused his attention on the cobwebs clouding his mind. He took a few long sips, despising the muddled feel of his thoughts and wanting to clear them as quickly as possible.

Emma replaced the receiver in the cradle. "Whale will be over here in about an hour." She smirked at James' groan. "If it's any consolation he didn't sound any more thrilled about it than you."

"It's really not," he informed her sourly.

This drew a round of chuckles from both women, though after a moment Emma suddenly looked uncomfortable and cleared her throat. "Well, he's going to be here soon, so…you probably want to finish eating and get changed." She briskly retreated to her office, closing the door firmly behind her.

James turned to his wife, bewildered by their daughter's sudden change of attitude.

Mary shrugged, hands raised helplessly. "She's been acting a little strangely all morning. Maybe it's everything that's happened the last few days, she's probably overwhelmed."

His gaze returned to Emma, watching through the window as she sat down at her desk and opened a file. What had changed while he'd been out of it?

O~U~A~T

James was sick to death of the questioning. Over an hour of the same round and roundabout inquiries, asking and re-asking the same things over and over. With certain questions he had to be careful in his answers, refusing to lie, but also unable to tell the truth, or at least not all of it. Emma would know if he was lying and he refused to damage her trust in him with an outright lie, but he needed to protect Mary all the same.

"I'll ask one more time," George-Spencer snapped. "How did your fingerprints end up on the knife?"

The former shepherd glared back at the man who'd forced him to live a lie. "I told you, I couldn't say how they got on there. I _never_ hurt Kathryn, and neither did Mary! And I'm tired of these questions. I want a lawyer."

Spencer pressed his lips into a frustrated line, slamming the file in front of him closed and standing as the door to the interrogation room opened to reveal Emma and Rumplestiltskin.

"District Attorney Spencer," 'Stiltskin began with exaggerated patience. "What little so-called evidence you have against my client is circumstantial now at best. The box the heart was found in Miss Blanchard has already stated was her own, kept in her apartment, a space Mr. Nolan had _full_ access to. The place the heart was found, they have both stated meant equally as much to the both of them. The alleged murder weapon doesn't have my client's fingerprints on it, it has _Mr. Nolan's_, and the only thing tying it to my client is that it was found in the heating vent in her room, which again Mr. Nolan had full access to. The most you could _possibly_ charge my client with is conspiracy…_if_ you could even get _that_ to stick." The imp's pointed tone made it loud and clear just how likely a prospect that was.

The DA audibly ground his teeth.

In a more "reasonable" voice the wily lawyer continued, "Now, you could try to continue this prosecution of my client, but I assure you that I will have your current case thrown out in no time. On the other hand…you could drop those charges and work on building a different case against Miss Blanchard then refile at a later date…and I would make sure it was a _very_ good case."

If it wouldn't be such disastrous timing James would have dearly loved to burst out laughing at the shades of red George-dammit-_Spencer's_ face went through and how close the man looked to exploding.

"Fine!" the DA snarled. "The charges against Miss Blanchard are dropped."

The tension that'd resided in James for days finally eased, relief visible on his face.

"Sheriff," now Spencer turned his attention to the erstwhile deputy, "finish booking Mr. Nolan for the murder of Kathryn Nolan."

James allowed his head to lower, accepting this easily with the knowledge that Mary would be free.

It took a couple of moments before Emma could force herself to move to his side. "John…"

He immediately stood up, allowing her to lead him by the arm out of the interrogation room and back into the main office space.

Mary was standing at the bars of her cell, watching in horror as her best friend assured her lover that she would get him a good lawyer and locked him in the neighboring cell. "Emma!" she gasped.

The blonde turned a reluctant, sad gaze to the dark-haired woman. "John's been formally charged, Mare." She locked the door, then moved to Mary's. "And the ones against you have been dropped."

"No!" the teacher cried out in protest, face suddenly _very_ pale. "John would _never_ hurt Kathryn!" The instant her door was open she rushed to James', taking his hands through the bars. "John!"

He gathered both of her hands into one of his, the other rising to cup her cheek; the two of them oblivious to Emma's dealing with Spencer and Gold. "It's ok, Mary."

"No, it's _not_!" Tears flowed freely down her cheeks. "You didn't do this!"

"No, I didn't," James agreed, one corner of his mouth lifted. "And the people most important to me know that. _You_ know that. And now they know you're innocent; you're free." He stroked his thumb over her skin. "And all of that…_that's_ what _really_ matters to me."

"John." Mary's voice quavered over his name. Then she yanked one of her hands free of his, wrapped it around the back of his neck and pulled his head down to hers, smashing their lips together in a fierce, desperate kiss that shook James through to his soul.

_Snow…_ Her name was a gasp in his mind as he kissed her back as thoroughly and possessively as she was him. Gods, she hadn't kissed him like this since…

The rational part of his mind caught up with what he'd been thinking, completing the trailed off thought. She hadn't kissed him like this since she'd been truly his wife, his Snow. Mary Margaret _never_ kissed him this way.

As hard as it was, he managed to pull his mouth away from hers, intentionally blocking out the loud protests from George in the background and Emma's equally stubborn refusals. His blue eyes gazed down at his beloved.

She audibly protested him ending the kiss, hand insistently pulling his head back down to her and when he only gave a little she rose on her toes to meet him the rest of the way. For several long moments neither could think of anything except for each other, and certainly didn't _want_ to.

"Charming," she quietly gasped between kisses.

It was an unsurprisingly long time before it registered with James that _Mary_ shouldn't be calling him that. When he lifted his head this time Mary permitted it, though her displeasure over ending the connection was obvious.

"What?" James was struggling to stifle the burgeoning hope that wanted to reveal itself in his expression.

Green eyes blinked at him dazedly. "What?" she returned.

"What did you just say?" he asked raggedly, gaze searching hers desperately.

She frowned thoughtfully. "I-I'm not sure…" Her expression became worried. "Did I say something wrong?"

He grinned at her crookedly, cradling her face between his palms. "No. Not at all. I just…" he shook his head, forcing himself not to grin as wide as he wanted to. "I just didn't quite hear what you said." He kissed her softly, the passion of only moments before cooled into a sweet, loving comfort. "I love you. Just always remember that."

As if suddenly once again noticing the bars between them Mary's face fell and tears filled her eyes. "I love you too." Her pale fingers wrapped around one of the bars. "This is so _wrong_."

"Don't worry, darling." James pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Things will work out." He met her gaze again. "Have faith."

Something flashed in her eyes, something oh-so-achingly familiar to James. Then confusion and fear intruded. "John…" Her emotional turmoil over what had to be a frightening feeling of duality was raw in her voice.

"Mary." His eyes bore into hers. "It's _all_ going to be all right." The backs of his fingers trailed down her cheek. "We'll figure _everything_ out. I promise."

She clung to his hands desperately. "I _hate_ this…"

Hate wasn't a word he was used to hearing from either Snow _or_ Mary Margaret, it just wasn't in their nature to hate something or some_one_ so much–as evidenced by Snow's need to try to find redemption and forgiveness for her stepmother over and over again. That just showed him even more how distraught and overwrought she was from everything that had happened in the last few weeks and all that they were still going through.

As much as he could he pulled her into his arms, holding her while her own arms wrapped around him in a vise grip as if she was drowning and he were her only lifeline.

"We'll fight this and win," he whispered into her ear. "And then I'll come home and we'll put things back together again."

"Mary Margaret." Emma was standing behind her and looking everywhere but at them. She'd managed to get rid of the two lawyers at some point and was the only other person in the room. "Mary, I have to properly book John. I called Ruby, she's already outside waiting for you… You need to go home."

The dark-haired woman's fingers tightened on his shoulders.

"It's gonna be ok," James murmured again.

Oh-so-reluctantly she released her grip, kissing him once more before stepping back, still gripping one of his hands in hers. "I'll get a few more of your things, and I'll bring you dinner."

He gave her a half-smile. "It's a date," he gently joked, drawing the weakest of smiles from his love before she allowed their daughter to direct her out of the station.

O~U~A~T

The drive with Ruby was silent, the waitress either unsure of what to say or understanding Mary's need to just be left with her thoughts for the moment. The raven-haired woman leaned against the door of the scarlet Camaro, arms wrapped tightly around her middle, staring out the window sightlessly. She didn't even notice when the car stopped.

"Mary," Ruby's voice was uncharacteristically soft and tender as she lay a hand on Mary's shoulder.

The teacher startled out of her gloom, turning to her young friend.

"We're home."

Mary turned back to her window, actually looking this time, and sure enough, they were sitting in front of Mary, John and Emma's apartment building. Slowly she unfolded from the near-ball she'd drawn herself into. "Thank you, Ruby," she murmured, pushing the car door open.

Ruby was already out and grabbing her bag from the backseat when Mary closed her door. She thanked the younger woman again, holding her hand out for her bag only to have it pulled out of reach. Her eyes went questioningly to her friend.

"I'll help you upstairs." Ruby began striding up to the building.

"That's not really necessary," Mary protested, having to walk faster to keep up with Ruby's long strides.

At the apartment door, Ruby turned to her, free hand on her cocked hip. "Look, Emma told me to stay with you. She doesn't think you should be alone right now."

Mary's face went bright red. "I can take care of myself." A spike of shock went through her. _Where had _that_ come from?_ She'd _never_ say something like that. She'd just accept it and go with what people wanted for her…

Ruby seemed to not even notice her shock, just continuing, "Well, I happen to agree with Emma–so does Granny by the way–and I have the rest of the day off. So," she took Mary's keys from her hand and jammed them into the lock, "you're just going to have to deal with having me around." She held the door open for Mary before following her inside.

It was unnerving how quiet the apartment was and how empty it felt. Mary's gaze scanned the space, inwardly wondering how she'd lived here alone for so long. She hated the silence, longing for the warmth and noise Emma and John had brought to her home and life. She wanted her family home and whole.

Suddenly her fears, worry and the nightmare she'd been living in for the last few days crashed down on her, overwhelming her anew with the thought that she might lose John forever. She bolted for the bathroom, hand clamped over her mouth. She lost what remained of her breakfast in the toilet, vaguely registering Ruby's hand rubbing her back.

After what seemed almost an eternity Mary's stomach finally stopped heaving and she sat back against the wall. Ruby gently pressed a hand towel into her palm, prompting a weak "thank you" from the teacher. She wiped her mouth, accepting the glass of water her friend handed her; with Ruby's help she stood and rinsed her mouth out, spitting the mouthful into the sink. Then she sank back to the floor, still waiting for the trembling in her body to abate. Ruby hadn't said anything beyond quiet words of encouragement, just silently flushing the toilet, placing the soiled towel in the hamper and then sitting down next to her.

They sat there together for long moments, the only sound Mary's still somewhat labored breathing and quiet sips from the glass.

"Have you been getting sick a lot lately?"

Mary turned at her friend's inquiry. "No...just a couple of times over the last few days. It's been very stressful."

Ruby watched her index finger tracing the wolf ring on her other hand. "Is that all that it is?"

A confused frown crossed the teacher's face. "What do you mean?"

Hazel eyes lifted to meet green. "Maybe there's another reason for you throwing up."

Mary started to shake her head and was about to say she still didn't understand when it dawned on her what Ruby was getting at. Immediately she shut down. "No." Her head shook in vehement denial.

Ruby raised her hands in a placating gesture. "I'm just asking. You and John certainly haven't been celibate."

"I've been on birth control," she quickly countered, her breath again becoming more labored.

Ruby, sensing Mary's encroaching panic, placed a comforting hand on her arm. "It's ok, I was just worried and felt I should ask." Mary had too much on her plate already, Ruby realized, she couldn't handle anything more at the moment, even if pregnancy was a possibility, which the waitress had a sneaking suspicion it was given Mary's strong reaction.

After waiting a few moments longer Ruby stood. "Let's get you cleaned up and something in your stomach." She reached down, helping Mary to stand. "Emma said you haven't had lunch."

Mary shook her head as she moved to the sink and pulled out her toothbrush and toothpaste. "No, I haven't."

"Brush your teeth and take a shower." Ruby moved to the door. "I'll bring your bathrobe and then make you something to eat." She shut the door behind her.

The teacher applied what was more than her usual amount of focus into squeezing the toothpaste onto her toothbrush. She was grateful for Ruby's briskness, for her taking charge when she felt so adrift and unsure at the moment. There was a small part of her that chafed under her friend's highhandedness, but it was easily ignored and honestly she needed some direction until she got her bearings again.

Brushing her teeth and the shower did wonders to refresh her, though her heart was still raw, at least she felt less adrift and more clearheaded. Wrapping her robe around her, she wiped the steam from the mirror; the green eyes that met her gaze frightened her. Over the last few months the look in her eyes, the spirit behind them had changed, she hardly recognized the woman in them anymore…but at the same time…she was familiar. Like a long lost friend. The changes in herself, the visions or hallucinations and dreams, and the increasing feeling almost like she was two people had been disconcerting enough, but Kathryn's murder and everything that had happened in the investigation had yanked the rug out from under her already unsteady feet.

She turned away from the mirror, using the towel to help dry her cropped hair, ignoring the thought that floated through her mind that short hair was certainly easier to manage and faster to dry than long, unruly curls, that was accompanied by a contrary pang of longing for that feature. Mary purposefully refocused her mind on the one thing in her life that she _could_ control at the moment, doing what she could to be there for John and bringing him more of his things and food.

One step at a time, she told herself as she stepped out of the bathroom, steam billowing out after her. First, they needed to prove John was innocent and get him home. Then they would figure out what was happening to her…together.

O~U~A~T

Later, Ruby dropped Mary off at the station to have dinner with John. It really broke her heart, the hell her two friends were being put through, and that, for now at least, eating their respective meals on opposite sides of prison bars constituted having dinner together. Unfortunately there was nothing she could really do to remedy that situation right now aside from being there for her friends.

But there was a small way she could help on another front. Thus why she had dropped Mary off with a promise to return later to pick her up. She spun the key in the lock for her friends' apartment, doing her best to ignore the unsettling silence. She made an immediate beeline for Mary and John's bedroom, feeling too much like an intruder in this home to want to stay long on her own.

Once in the room Ruby opened a few drawers until she found Mary's underwear drawer, then she reached into the plastic shopping bag and pulled out the single item inside. The young woman stared at the small box in her hand for a moment before tucking it discreetly among Mary's clothing.

_It was there_, Ruby thought as she closed the drawer, _when Mary was ready._

O~U~A~T

James was lying on his back, hand behind his head, absorbed in the Battle of Helms Deep while Emma gathered her belongings for the night. Mary had been all-too-right when she said he would enjoy J. R. R. Tolkien's works, and not just for the masterful storytelling, but also because it was a world he could honestly relate to better than this one.

"Is there anything else you need before I leave?"

He glanced up at his daughter's question and have her a grin. "The key to the door and a head start?"

His attempt at a joke earned him a strained smile.

James gave her as reassuring a look as he could. "I'm fine, Emma. Thanks. Go home and get some sleep." He turned back to his book, one again sucked into the mythical land of Middle Earth.

It was silent for several moments, then Emma asked, "Is there anything in particular you want for breakfast, James?"

He didn't even glance up as he responded, "No, whatever you choose will be great."

"Ok...James."

Her odd tone and emphasis on his name gave him pause while his preoccupied mind tried to figure out why alarm bells were sounding in his head. Then it caught up to him. She hadn't used his Storybrooke name, she'd used his name from the Enchanted Forest. He set the novel down beside him, remaining otherwise still on his back, staring up at the ceiling, not yet prepared to face his only child. "Where did you hear that name?"

He heard the creaking of her leather jacket, the shifting of fabric and scuffing of shoes against the floor, and could vividly see in his mind his daughter shifting as she habitually did, without even looking. Walls up, on high guard.

"Last night, one of the times I had to wake you up. You were more coherent but still really out of it." There was a pause, he could just imagine her tapping a nervous finger against her badge. "You talked about how beautiful Mary is, and how beautiful she was when you married her both times, something about the first time being for your dying mother and the second for the kingdom."

She seemed to be waiting for a response but James wasn't ready yet, mind still whirling.

"You said I shouldn't call you John, but James...and that my mother called you Charming..."

He mentally cursed himself for every kind of idiot he knew.

The air was thick enough that James felt like if he tried to stand up it would be like wading through cement.

Finally he forced himself into a sitting position, hands loosely linked between his knees and staring at the wall across from him, unable to meet Emma's gaze. "There are a few possibilities here... First off, Henry has been right all along and we're fairy tales cursed into this land. Second, and one I don't favor, I'm delusional. Third...I was simply tripping out."

After giving her a few moments to absorb what he just suggested, James turned to meet her wary gaze. "So which do you want to go with? Take a leap of faith that I don't think you're ready for? Have me committed to the psych-ward, which I don't think any of us really wants? Our just chalk it up to drug-induced delusions and let things be for now?"

Emma's hands opened and closed conclusively at her sides, seeming to want to look away from his steady stare, but unable to do so.

"Regardless of what you decide to believe, I will tell you that no one and nothing matters more to me than you, Mary and Henry. And I would do anything to protect you all."

Innumerable tense moments passed before Emma finally tore her eyes from his to stare at the floor. "I'll see you in the morning, John."

James sadly watched his daughter's hasty retreat, wishing desperately that she was ready to accept the truth, but knowing it was going to take time. And when it came to his family, Charming had all the time and patience in the world.

O~U~A~T

Rumplestiltskin looked up as the door to his store banged open and then slammed shut. "Well, Your Majesty…should I move things around? Make a bit of space for your rage?"

Regina stormed up to the counter where he was standing. "How the _hell_ did David Nolan's prints get on that knife?!"

He didn't even bat an eye when her hands slammed down on the counter hard enough to rattle the surface, and just met the fury spitting from her eyes with a lazy amusement. "Well, how should I know, dearie? He hasn't been able to explain it and I surely wouldn't know."

Regina stabbed the glass counter with her finger. "Mary Margaret is supposed to take the blame. _She_ is supposed to go to jail for this. She is supposed to suffer for what she's done!"

The imp leaned casually forward. "Well, Your Majesty, I'd say you're going to get your wish. And perhaps have it pay off even more than you planned."

"What the hell do you mean?"

"How do you think Miss Blanchard is going to feel about the love of her life being accused of murder and put on trial for it…" His eyes glittered craftily. "Being sent to jail for the rest of his life?"

A smile slowly grew on the queen's face. "It would rip her heart out."

'Stiltskin gave her a condescending smile. "Indeed."

O~U~A~T

So, Sassy, when she sent the edits back to me, told me that I "killed it" with the chapter, along with killing her, then she ordered me to make the edits and post it IMMEDIATELY so that I could kill others…did I? XD I hope that you guys enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it! So much of it has been in my mind for a LONG time, including how Emma would reveal to Charming that she knew (though her truly BELIEVING is still pending. XD) Is Mary/Snow pregnant? …Maaaaaaybeeeeeee… XD Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you think! :-D


	28. Interruptions

So, I have the most kick ass dartie EVER! Sassy got this back to me this afternoon! XD Here's the new chapter less than a day after I updated _Once Upon a Time…and Again_!

O~U~A~T

**Interruptions**

Emma was distant the next morning, which James understood, but it _killed_ him. She needed to pretend that last night didn't happen, but at the same time she needed time and distance to _deal_ with last night.

His heart ached for his beloved daughter, wishing with everything in him that he could take this burden away, save her the conflict and pain. James hated what'd been taken from them. Their family ripped apart, all of the years lost, innumerable moments he couldn't get back with his child… And he _hated_ this world that had burned her so, that had left her so broken. He wished he could go back and undo every single hurt that'd been enacted upon her. Whenever he thought about it his hands would clench in impotent rage, pain wracking him at being unable to even comfort her as a father. _Damn_ Regina for what she did to his child!

Mary tossed a strained smile at Emma as she handed her one of the three Tupperware boxes she carried. "I made us all breakfast." There was a determined, forced cheerfulness in her tone.

Emma and James instinctively turned to each other, her worry for her best friend and bone-deep knowledge that he shared it overriding any awkwardness she felt from last night's revelations.

Mary wasn't handing the situation well, and James knew that the parts of Snow that had been slipping through scared her all the more. Mary wasn't Snow, she didn't have his wife's fire and steel, and she'd been stuck for 28 years in a place that never changed, the very definition of permanence and stability. Mary still wasn't accustomed to such violent and sudden upheaval. Snow, on the other hand, had spent much of her adult years only really knowing impermanence and instability. Snow would have taken all of this in stride and come out swinging. Mary didn't have the coping mechanisms to deal with what was happening. The thinnest of veneers covered her fear and the fact that she was just a breath away from falling apart.

James accepted the rubber container that his wife pressed into his hands and caught her fingers before she could pull away. "Mary," he murmured, tone a soothing caress.

She stiffened under his touch, eyes slowly lifting to his; even if he hadn't known her better than he knew himself, he still would've been able to see how close she was to tears.

"Please," she begged, "I _can't _fall apart..." Tears gathered at the corner of her eyes. "I don't think I'll be able to _stop_ crying."

Letting the Tupperware drop to the floor, uncaring of it stayed closed or not, James cradled her face between his palms. He kissed her, pouring all of the reassurance and comfort he could into it, he could feel wet droplets sliding between their mouths, but just continued to kiss her.

"I love you," James murmured against her lips before pulling back to meet her tearful gaze. "And nothing can ever change or take that away."

Pressing her forehead against his, Mary gripped his wrists. "They can take you away from me," her voice quavered.

"No." He shook his head in emphasis. "They might imprison me, but I'm _always_ yours." James sifted his fingers through her hair. "And the truth has a habit of coming out."

She tried to smile, tears still streaming down her cheeks.

James needed to find a way to reassure her. Leaning forward he whispered in her ear, "I will _always_ find you."

He could see the effect the words had on her, reaching inside, touching the part that was Snow, flowing confidence and reassurance through her. And while Mary might not understand why she felt this way she seemed to be willing to let it soothe her. Her lips met his again, tears beginning to dry. "I love you," sighed into the kiss.

A smile curved his mouth. "I love you too."

With a grin that had his heart skipping a beat at how much it looked like Snow's, she kissed him quickly again. "You'd better pick up your breakfast." Humor lit her eyes as she stepped back.

His heart pounding at the sudden change in Mary's face, James had a hell of a time tearing his gaze from her to look down where he'd dropped his meal, finding it thankfully still sealed shut, if rather shaken up. His eyes kept straying to his wife as he bent to pick up the Tupperware and moved onto his cot to eat.

Mary had gone to the desk where she'd set her own breakfast down along with the thermos and three mugs she'd brought, proceeding to pour coffee into each cup. She had no idea what'd gotten into her. How had his words brought forth such a confidence that all would be well? That somehow together they could overcome this? It made no sense but the part of her that wanted to curl in a ball and weep would obviously do no good, so she chose to wrap herself in this confidence, because it was certainly better than that weakness.

At some point during her and John's exchange Emma had, unsurprisingly, escaped to her office and was paying a little more attention than necessary to eating her meal. After handing John his cup, just smiling at his piercing look–that same part of her that charged in and overtook her fear wanted to tease him a little–she headed into her roommate's office, coffee in hand and a calm smile on her face.

"Coffee?" She held the cup up in question.

When she looked up, the blonde's eyebrows shot up her forehead and it took her a beat or two to respond. "Yeah." She thanked Mary as she set the mug in front of her.

"You're welcome," the dark-haired woman responded.

Emma caught her hand as she turned to leave. "Mare...are you...ok?"

The teacher thought carefully before answering. "I don't know." She smiled. "But..." She bit her lip. "I think I'm heading that direction."

The sheriff let her hand slip from hers, watching as her best friend dragged a chair in front of John's cell and settled down to eat with her lover with as much normalcy as could be had in the situation.

O~U~A~T

Mary was heading down the sidewalk, she'd been loath to leave John but they were in dire need of groceries at home and it gave her something productive to do instead of pacing the Sheriff's station.

"Mary!"

She looked up from digging through her purse to make sure she had her wallet to see Ashley hurrying toward her as quickly she could with Alexandra in the stroller. Relief and worry simultaneously lit her face as she folded the elder woman into a hug which Mary returned, automatically at first but once the momentary shock wore off her arms tightened into an actual embrace.

"Sean and I've been so worried!" The young blonde pulled back, concern marring her brow. "We were collecting money to get you a lawyer and Sean was pouring over his books from his pre-law classes, trying to find some way to help. We were so relieved to hear when you were released, but upset that John had been arrested!"

The audible reminder of the wrongful incarceration of the man she loved was a spear to Mary's heart, but she continued to cling to the love and confidence that'd imbued her being. "Thank you, Ashley." She managed a smile. "I appreciate it and I know John will as well."

Horror flashed across Ashley's expression. "I'm so sorry! I'm making it worse, aren't I?!"

"No, Ashley." Mary gripped the young mother's upper arms. "You're trying to help and be a true friend. And I thank you for that." She gave her arms an understanding squeeze.

She gave a watery laugh. "I should be the one comforting you!"

The teacher pulled her into a hug. "I'm working fine… I'm working on being all right."

They remained embracing for several moments.

"You know…" Mary commented over her friend's shoulder, injecting some humor into her tone, "I think we're still going to need that money you collected…John's going to need a lawyer."

Ashley gave a laugh.

O~U~A~T

James was alone in the sheriff's department, Emma having run out to do…something. She hadn't elaborated, but he was fairly certain he'd heard her mumble something about trying to get evidence to exonerate him. He was almost to the end of _Two Towers_, he made a note to ask Mary to bring the next book when she came for lunch.

"John?"

His head snapped up at his grandson's voice. "Henry?" He dropped the book and shot to his feet.

The boy's face lit up. "John!" He ran to him, hands gripping the bars.

James rushed to where Henry was just as quickly, kneeling in front of him, covering his small hands with his own. "What are you doing here?!"

"I had to see you!" The boy's forehead crumpled. "First Ms. Blanchard and now you! The Evil Queen _has_ to be stopped!"

"Henry," he stared directly into his grandson's eyes, "_don't_ do anything that could get you into trouble!"

"But I can help!" Henry protested.

"No, Henry! You _have_ to stay out of trouble." The former prince made sure his voice conveyed the dire nature of the situation.

"Why?!" There was a petulant set to the child's face and voice.

James took a deep breath. "Because you have to be strong and look out for your mother and grandmother."

It took a beat for the full meaning of the statement to sink in, then Henry's eyes went wide as saucers. "You _remember_?!"

"Yes." He nodded slowly. "I'm James, Prince Charming. Mary is Snow White, my wife and true love… Emma," his voice cracked, "Emma is our daughter…our little girl." A grin lifted his mouth. "And you're my grandson."

"Well, we need to _tell_ everyone!"

"No!" James quickly countered.

"Why not?" The boy pouted again.

"Because…" The prince sighed. "Because Emma isn't quite ready to fully accept the truth, and if we tried, they'd just lock me up in the mental hospital and…and I don't want to think about what they'd do to you, or what Regina would do to Mary and Emma."

Henry's expression sobered. "I understand." Then his brow furrowed in confusion. "But why are you telling me this?"

James hung his head. "Because…if…somehow, I don't get out of this…if they convict me and lock me up…it's up to you to help Mary remember, and to get Emma to believe and break the curse."

The child's expression illustrated how overwhelmed he was before settling into stubborn determination. "I promise, I'll do it."

He cupped the side of his grandson's head, smiling. "That's my boy, a true prince."

"Henry."

Their heads snapped to the door.

Rumplestiltskin stood in the entrance, leaning on his cane. "Does your mother know you're here?"

"I…uhhh…" the boy stumbled and stammered, trying to come up with an excuse.

"I recommend," the wily man cut in, "that you leave now, before our Madame Mayor notices you're absence."

Henry's eyes darted between the crafty imp and his newly-discovered grandpa. "O-ok." Impulsively, he reached through the bars and hugged James around the neck as best he could.

The prince couldn't breathe. This was his first hug from his grandson when they were _both_ fully aware of their relationship and knew that the other knew. His arms automatically went around the boy, but soon he was hugging him as tightly as Henry was him.

"I love you, Gramps," the boy whispered.

It took several swallows before James was able to speak. "I love you too, son."

Slowly, reluctantly they released each other, pulling away before James gave his grandson one last crooked grin and urged him to the door.

'Stiltskin waited until Henry was out the door and down the hall before closing the door behind him.

James sat back on the cot, a wry eyebrow cocked. "To what do I owe the…_pleasure_?"

The shorter man smirked. "Clever ploy…and predictably noble, placing your fingerprints on the knife."

The prince kept his expression carefully blank. "I don't know what you mean."

A chuckle rolled from Rumplestiltskin. "Oh, no, no." He grinned again at the sandy-haired man. "I suppose you don't."

"What do you want, 'Stiltskin?" James asked flatly.

The imp waved the characteristic bluntness of Charming off. "Well, your current lawyer, the public defender, is rather…"

"Inept?" The erstwhile deputy offered.

"To put it bluntly." Rumplestiltskin rested his hands atop his cane. "I've come to offer my services since, with Ms. Blanchard's charges cleared, there's no longer any conflict of interest."

Blue eyes narrowed into icy slits. "Why?"

The imp smirked. "As I told your wife a long time ago…I'm invested in your futures."

O~U~A~T

Emma seemed even more dejected, if that was possible, in the last two days leading up to James' trial, as if she'd let him down in some way. More than anything he wanted to reassure his daughter that she could _never_ disappoint him but things were still…complicated between them.

As the court officers began to pull him out of the station, James reached out to squeeze his child's hand, giving her a reassuring smile. All that mattered to him was that his family was safe.

Mary was sitting directly behind him in the court room, more than anything he wanted to lean over the barrier and kiss her, but this wasn't the time or the place, so he settled for a quick grip of her hand before taking a seat at the defendant's table.

The judge called the court to order…and it began.

James had pretty much tuned them all out by the second sentence; he knew that whether or not he was convicted had little to do with him.

Spencer was only minutes into his opening statement when the doors banged open. All heads turned to the entrance to see Emma running breathlessly down the center aisle, shoving the gate open.

"Sheriff Swan," the judge snapped.

"Excuse me, Your Honor." She didn't sound particularly repentant. "But there's been some kind of mistake."

James glanced back at his wife in confusion, who shrugged, expression mirroring his, before they both returned their gazes to their daughter.

"And what on _Earth_ kind of 'mistake' could warrant interrupting a trial?"

The blonde took a deep breath. "Kathryn Nolan was found 15 minutes ago behind Granny's Diner…alive."

O~U~A~T

Soooooooo…thoughts? Did you guys like it? I couldn't help ending it there! XD Hopefully the muse will continue to be helpful… XD Thank you for reading! :-D


	29. Home

Those of you who were annoyed with me for leaving you hanging (again) at the end of the last chapter, here is the newest installment! :-D I hope that you guys like it! Thank you for all of the encouragement, you guys really help keep me going on these stories and make my day!

BIG thanks and hugattacks for my lovely beta and dartie, SassySnow1988! Thank you for saving me from inconsistencies and encouraging me to do more! :-D You're the best dartie EVER! ;-D

O~U~A~T

**Home**

The judge called an immediate recess, insisting on seeing Kathryn himself along with both lawyers. He instructed the court officers to return James to his cell. The prince grasped his wife's hand tightly before allowing himself to be cuffed and led away.

Mary followed them back to the station, and kept a careful distance while they locked him up again; once they left, she moved to the bars, her and James reaching for each other at the same time between them.

A wobbly, hopeful smile lit her expression. "She's alive! They'll _have_ to let you go. It can be proven now that you didn't do what they're accusing you of!"

He pressed a kiss to each of her knuckles, feeling the same burgeoning hope himself, but tried to control it, knowing that there still may be more to come. "We need to be patient…" A crooked grin slipped across his face without his consent. "But…we may be seeing the end of this nightmare."

"You might get to come home tonight…" Mary bit her lip. "What do you want for dinner? Anything you want, I'll make it."

A single blond eyebrow rose. "Seriously, anything?"

"_Anything_."

James stared up at the ceiling a moment in thought. "Well, I'd love a steak, your garlic mashed potatoes, steamed string beans and a bottle of a red." A smirk grew on his face as he leaned forward and whispered, "Then afterward, I want you."

Her skin flushed, and desire flared in her eyes. Mary reached up, cupping the back of his neck, drawing his head down to hers. "That sounds perfect to me," she murmured before their lips met.

A throat clearing had them jerking apart. Emma was just inside the doorway, eyes cut to the side, once she could tell they had moved apart, she strode over to the cell, keys jangling in her hand.

"Let's get you out of there," the sheriff said briskly.

Mary gasped. "They've let him go?"

The keys spun in the lock. "The paperwork is still being processed, but I don't give a damn. The charges are being dropped and I _really_ hate having a friend in one of these cells." She threw the door open. "In my book you're a free man."

James caught her hand as he passed her and squeezed it, meeting her gaze and holding it. "_Thank you_, Emma."

For several heartbeats Emma couldn't look away, but then her eyes drifted to their feet, obviously uncomfortable though she didn't pull away. "Can't let my family be kept apart," she mumbled.

His heart leapt at her referring to them as family. Even if she wasn't ready to accept that he and Mary were really her parents, Emma was willing to admit that they were family to her even if only through bonds of friendship. James released his grip, not wanting to push his daughter any further than she already had been at this point.

Mary nearly knocked him over with the force of her plowing into him, arms locked around his neck. His arms automatically wrapped around her waist and he picked her up, laughing as he spun them around.

"We're lucky tonight, Emma," James told her after setting Mary back on her feet. "We've been promised a steak dinner." The prince winked at Emma.

She cocked an eyebrow at her roommate. "High-styling." A smirk quirked her mouth. "Maybe one of us should get arrested more often."

Mary glared at her mildly but was unable to keep a smile off of her face for long, too delighted with having the man she loved free once again. She turned her attention back to James. "Let's get you home, you probably want a proper shower and a fresh set of clothes."

"That actually sounds amazing," he admitted. The facilities in the station were hardly the accommodations he was used to. "And no offense, Emma," he commented looking at her, "I _really_ can't wait to sleep on a _real_ mattress."

Letting the keys drop onto a nearby desk, she laughed lightly. "No offense taken." She nodded in the directions of the cells. "I can't imagine those pallets are particularly comfortable."

"No, indeed." James allowed his wife to begin leading him away.

"Hey, John!"

He turned back just in time to raise his hand and catch something she tossed at him, glancing down at the metal and leather object in his palm. His deputy badge. His gaze snapped back to hers.

"I need my deputy back on duty in two days," Emma told him simply.

James' signature half-smile lifted his mouth. "First thing, boss."

The sheriff rolled her eyes. "Again I say, call me that again and see if you still have a job."

A chuckle rumbled from him. "Got it."

O~U~A~T

Even though he'd only been away from the apartment for a few days, walking through the door into the home he shared with his wife and daughter, it felt like it'd been _years_. The apartment was quiet, but in its usual neat order that Mary kept it in.

James glanced toward the kitchen, wincing with the sudden memory, and looked back to his wife. "I…uh…I broke one of your glasses…after you were arrested."

Mary's eyebrows shot up.

He shrugged sheepishly. "I was really angry at the time. I'll replace it."

Eyes soft and understanding, even flattered, she rose up on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "It's all right. Don't worry about it."

James gazed into her eyes, letting himself fall into them and then drew her against him. Their first kiss in weeks without bars between them was sweet and lingering, but with a passion that took his breath away. His hands closed around her waist, pushing up her shirt enough to stroke bare skin, it felt so good to be free to touch her again, knowing he didn't have to stop.

"C'mon," he murmured against her lips.

"Where?" Mary questioned breathlessly, though she was already following him.

"Take a shower with me."

She flushed from head to toe, quite willingly allowing him to lead her along.

For all the urgency they both felt for each other and the time they were separated, they didn't come together in a rush, ripping their clothes off. It was exactly the opposite. They undressed each other slowly, lingering over skin as it was bared, kissing languidly, their touches worshipful.

They didn't even release each other as James turned the shower on and Mary checked the temperature. Using the bar of soap, they washed each other, long caresses of palms, fingers massaging. Their mouths traced loving lines over familiar places, Mary not ready to address just _how _familiar they felt. Standing under the spray of the shower to rinse off the suds sliding over James' skin, she nipped his jaw then swirled her tongue over the spot. As his strong fingers worked shampoo through Mary's dark locks, he sucked on her ear lobe.

Pressing Mary against the wall, shower water raining down his back, James gripped the back of her knee to hitch her leg over his hip. The nails of one of her hands dug into his shoulder, the other scraped along the slick tiled wall searching for purchase but only sliding over the surface uselessly. It really was a good thing Emma had given them this time alone in the apartment since neither would've been able to restrain the sounds they made.

They collapsed against the wall panting afterward, neither sure how they managed not to just fall in a heap in the tub. Once they'd caught their breaths their lips met in a long leisurely kiss.

"I love you," he murmured to her.

Fingers weaving through short sandy-colored hair, she smiled. "I love you too."

They remained entwined like that until the water turned cool, simply enjoying being together, basking in the freedom to touch and kiss each other unhindered for the first time in weeks. A thought flitted through Mary's mind, all but lost in the tide of bliss she was riding and not to resurface again for a few days.

_Oh, how I missed you, Charming._

O~U~A~T

_The next day…_

James cautiously stepped around the curtain into the recovery room, letting out a sigh of relief at finding Kathryn asleep. He probably shouldn't be here, but he needed to just see for himself that she was all right. For all of the issues between them, both in this world and the other, she was still a _very_ dear friend.

The blonde looked so very peaceful, lying in the hospital bed. He didn't go any closer than he was, about five feet or so from her.

With a relieved sigh he turned to leave again, satisfied that she was all right.

"Who's there?"

James froze at the startled voice behind him, and slowly turned back.

"David?" Her brow was furrowed in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to come and see for myself that you were all right." He took a few steps closer to the bed, hands jammed into his pockets.

"You were accused of murdering me?"

"Yeah," he agreed quietly. "And Mary before me."

Staring at the blankets covering her, she rubbed her forehead. "This is all just so insane." Her eyes lifted to his again. "I'm sorry, to both of you."

Shaking his head, he moved closer. "It wasn't your fault, Kathryn, you certainly didn't _ask_ to be kidnapped and everything that followed."

"How's Mary Margaret?" Kathryn inquired, genuine concern coloring her voice.

James was surprised at first by the care she was showing for the woman she thought had taken her husband, but then he remembered the phone call just before she disappeared. "Better. How are _you_?"

A smile curved her mouth. "According to the doctors I'm doing surprisingly well, for the condition I was found in."

"But how are you holding up?" he gently persisted.

For several beats she didn't answer. "I think it might take a while before I feel safe again. But I really am all right otherwise."

A short laugh escaped him. "You're really kind of amazing."

Kathryn smirked. "Yeah, I am." She caught his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Thank you for coming, Dav-I mean John."

They shared a grin at her correcting herself.

"Now, go home." She released his hand and shooed him toward the door. "Go home to Mary Margaret. And I wish you both all the happiness in the world."

James watched her for several moments before leaning down and lightly kissing her forehead. "I wish the same for you, Kathryn. I hope you find that person for you."

She smiled appreciatively. "Thank you." Then she pushed him toward the door. "Now, get out of here."

"Yes, ma'am."

Stepping out of the door James nearly ran into someone.

Frederick.

"Dep-I mean…uh…"

"It's Deputy again," James quickly assured the man. "Rick Aurum, right?"

He shifted nervously. "Yeah."

The prince took in the flowers the knight-turned-gym teacher was holding and the way his eyes kept straying toward Kathryn's bed. "Are you here to see Kathryn?"

"Uh…yeah. If it's all right," Rick quickly added.

James' lips twitched, fighting a grin. "Well, that would be up to her, but I'm sure she'd love to meet you." He poked his head back into the room. "Kathryn," she looked up, "Rick Aurum, the one who found your car, he's here and would like to see you."

"Of course." She pushed herself up into more of a sitting position. "Let him in."

The deputy held the curtain open for the younger man, giving him a pat on the shoulder before letting the curtain close behind the knight, praying that this was the start of his friends getting their happily ever after back.

O~U~A~T

Something was oh-so-familiar about this man, Kathryn mused as she gazed at Rick Aurum, unaware that the same though was crossing his mind about her.

There was a long stretch of silence where neither seemed able to say anything.

Finally she noticed the bouquet in his hand, and latched onto them for a way to break the ice. "Lovely flowers."

His eyes snapped to them, as if only just remembering they were there. "Oh! Uh, yes. Uh, they're for you." Rick stepped forward, holding them out.

The blonde accepted them, breathing in their scent. "They're beautiful, thank you." She rested the flowers carefully in her lap. "I wanted to thank you for your help when I disappeared."

Confusion crossed his face. "All I did was find your car and call the sheriff."

She shrugged. "Perhaps, but who knows how long I might've been missing before anyone noticed if you hadn't?"

He didn't seem so sure but didn't argue. "I'm glad to have been of help."

Kathryn bit her lip. "After I get out of here, I'd like to make you dinner."

Rick's eyes lit up for a moment before he stifled his excitement slightly. "You don't have to do that."

"I know," she stated simply. "I said that I want to."

He was unable to respond for several moments, then a grin slowly lifted his lips. "I'd like that too."

O~U~A~T

The apartment was packed nearly to bursting with friends celebrating James and Mary being cleared of Kathryn's murder and his returning home. A large sign welcoming them both back hung cheerfully on the wall. James and Mary received more hugs during that celebration than they normally did in a month. Alexandra was passed from one set of arms to another while her parents laughed and chatted and helped with the party. Granny served up casseroles and tacos and all the other food with a broad grin while Emma and Ruby ladled out the fruit punch and occasional alcoholic drink.

James settled in one of the chairs off to the side, taking a moment to himself, watching his loved ones with a contented smile on his face. Henry jogging over to him made the prince grin even wider; the boy eagerly plopped down in the chair next to him.

"So…" his grandson began, "you still remember? Ya know, being Prince Charming?"

Torn between amusement and a sharp pain in his chest, James swallowed thickly and nodded. "Yeah, kiddo. I remember."

"Great! Now we can tell Emma and you can help us with Operation Cobra!"

"Henry, I think it best that we don't talk to Emma about me remembering yet."

Henry sighed dejectedly. "Because she's still not ready to fully believe?" he mumbled.

James bumped his shoulder against the boy's. "Hey, Mary and I aren't in trouble any more, and if Regina tries anything else right now it would draw attention that she doesn't want. We have time, and that's what Emma needs." He bent his head closer to Henry's. "We'll break the curse and we'll be together as a family. It will take time to work out, but families always find each other."

A very familiar half-grin lifted Henry's mouth. "Yeah. Especially ours."

"Especially ours," the deputy agreed.

Biting his lip, the child continued a little tentatively. "When it's just us–just you and me–can I call you Gramps?"

It took James several hard swallows before he managed to speak around the lump lodged in his throat. "Yeah. I'd like that."

Grin brighter than the morning sun, Henry tackled him in a hug. "Love ya, Gramps."

Tears burned in his eyes at hearing the longed-for words for the second time. "I love you too, Henry."

O~U~A~T

So… Didja like? :-D I really enjoyed writing this chapter with James and Mary's reunion, and the Grandpa Charming and Henry moment. Thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! :-D I'm going to update Hot Chocolate one more time before going back to Once Upon a Time…and Again.


	30. I Saw Eternity

Here's the promised next part of Hot Chocolate! :-D I hope that you like it!

Thanks and then some to the best dartie EVER! :-D

O~U~A~T

**I Saw Eternity**

It was surreal how quickly things went back to normal after John was released. He'd had to stay out of the ensuing investigation into how he and Mary were framed of course. They _all_ knew who had done it, even though Sidney confessed, but there was nothing more they could do. All the evidence traced back to Sidney Glass. Regina was going to get away with it…for now at least.

Mary was happy that things were falling back into place; it was comforting with the increasing internal upheaval she was experiencing, the growing sense that she was two people rather than one. Emotions and thoughts that were completely out of character for her–though part of her felt it was _completely_ in character–and memories that weren't her own–though somehow felt like they _were_ hers–kept popping up, interrupting her day. She'd be returning to work in two days; Mary hoped that the familiar setting would help restore her balance.

"Here you are, Mary."

She snapped out of her thoughts as Ruby handed her her hot chocolate. "Thanks." Mary grinned at her friend as she reached for the mug. Her fingers brushed the younger woman's.

"_Hey, I-I get it." The pretty brunette in the red hood smiled understandingly. "I just need something to call you."_

_When was the last time she'd had someone be so understanding of her? So accepting? When was the last time she'd been shown kindness? "Uh, Margaret. Oh, no. Uh…Mary! Mary," she decided with a firm nod._

"Mary?"

Green eyes fluttering, Mary gasped as she was pulled back from the…whatever that was, by the voice and a hand on her shoulder. She glanced around her to see Ruby looking at her worriedly and Emma, whose hand was on her shoulder, staring at her with a matching expression.

"Are you all right?" her roommate questioned.

_The tall, sandy-haired prince ran up to her, eyes scanning her from head to toe, searching for injury. "Are you all right?"_

"Mare!"

Emma and Ruby came back into focus.

"I-I'm fine…"

Her two friends looked unconvinced; Emma took her by the elbow and led her over to a table. "Sit down."

Mary automatically complied, still rather disoriented from the flashes.

"Drink this." Ruby pressed a glass of water into her hand.

With a murmured thanks the teacher sipped the cool liquid, trying to sort through the thoughts buzzing through her head, and the feeling that there was something _more_ just in the back of her mind.

Ruby was called over to another table, and squeezing Mary's hand supportively, she moved off reluctantly to do her job.

Emma settled into the booth across from her best friend. "What's going on, Mare?" she questioned.

Mary set the glass aside, and reached for her hot cocoa, hands curling around the mug, needing the warmth. "I…" She rubbed her forehead. "I've been having these…flashes…and dreams."

Concern lined the blonde's face. "What do you mean?"

"Images, voices…emotions." The teacher glanced around the diner, seeing a few familiar faces though most of them she wasn't familiar with. "People I know, myself included, in odd clothing and looking…_different_ than they're supposed to. Going by names…not ours, but…it feels…normal and…natural to call them those names."

Silence reigned for several moments, then Emma slowly asked, "What…kind of names?"

Mary dragged her eyes to meet her friend's, reluctant to talk about it, knowing that Emma's reaction wouldn't be good. It took several moments before she managed to say the words. "Fairy tale names."

Emma's gaze snapped down to the table, watching her hands play with the empty glass in front of her. "And the things you've seen?"

The dark-haired woman eyed her roommate. "Same."

After a few more moments of spinning the glass between her palms, the sheriff suggested, "Maybe you should go talk to John?"

Mary opened her mouth to say that she was fine and they didn't need to bother him with this.

"He's home right now… Maybe he can help you work this out? Ease your mind?"

"_What can I do to ease your mind?" Blue eyes pleaded with her for some way to help take away her burden. How very much her Charming, always trying to help her and protect her._

"I mean with his own history with that…memory stuff." Emma shrugged.

Mary blinked, nodding distractedly. "Yeah…maybe that's a good idea."

O~U~A~T

Mary stumbled over her own feet through the door into her home, mind still whirling. Part of her felt better for being in the familiar, safe environment, but another side seemed even more unsettled somehow.

Her eyes caught on Emma's baby blanket draped over the couch, inexorably drawn to it. Her fingers caressed the soft knit fabric.

_Her heart was shattering in her chest as she gazed down at her beloved baby girl. "Goodbye, Emma." She pressed a kiss to her daughter's forehead–all she would have with her for 28 years. Quickly, before she could change her mind, she let Charming take Emma from her arms–_

Mary backed away with a gasp, eyes stinging with tears.

_"We have to give her her best chance..."_ echoed through her mind.

A flash in the corner of her eye caught Mary's attention. The broken shard of glass still hung in the window, and it seemed to wink at her, as if it knew something she didn't.

_Charming smiled at her so joyfully and lovingly. "Well, you never have to worry, I will _always _find you." His fingers kept brushing through her hair, as if in an effort to reassure himself that she was real._

_Nothing could have wiped the smile from her face. She knew the answer to the question like her own heartbeat but she still asked, never tiring of hearing him say it, "Do you promise?"_

Mary was thrown out of the vision again, blinking furiously as she stepped back, only to bump into something that softly tinkled. The mobile. She'd been moving it around the apartment as she felt the need, it now hung next to the piece of glass. Without her consent, Mary's hand reached toward the figurines, fingers brushing them gently.

The memories crashed over her like a wave.

_It was late, but she couldn't sleep. Not after what happened today._

_Her hands caressed the side of the crib while the unicorns glittered dully in the moonlight, longing aching in her heart._

_"Snow."_

_She wasn't surprised that he'd found her. After all, they_ always _found each other. She undid and began to retie one of the bows on the crib. "She'll never even spend_ one night _here." Her hands clenched, tears crowding her vision as she sensed her husband moving to her side. "All of our hopes and dreams for her... Everything we have fought so long and hard for...it's being _ripped apart_."_

_His palms gently cradling her face, he turned her gaze to meet his, thumbs wiping away the tears on her cheeks. "We'll find each other again. We'll all be together again as a_ family_." He lowered his head to hers, but just before bringing their lips together, he said, "I promise–"_

_She didn't know exactly why she was doing it, leaning into this man to kiss him except that it felt right for some reason. The most right anything had felt in far too long._

_His lips were soft against hers, tentative but also clinging, as if he couldn't believe this was happening and was terrified the moment would disappear. That _she _would disappear._

_It was like a door that'd been locked in her mind was suddenly flung wide and it all rushed back to her. Her green eyes snapped open to his face before her and pulled back to see him better, mouth falling slightly open in breathless joy._

_His blue eyes finally slid open, surprise flashing in them at her expression before confusion overtook it._

_"_Charming_," she finally managed to gasp._

_His face lit up brighter than the sun. "_Yes, it's me_!"_

_They leaned into each other to–_

_"We're going to have a child," she breathed in shock, watching the once-still pendant now swing undeniably above her palm._

_"_What_?" She didn't really register Charming's tone as she continued to observe the miracle before her._

_"_We're going to have a child_!" she repeated with burgeoning joy and wonder._

_"Is there...something I need to know?"_

_Finally she looked up, meeting her new husband's nervous look with her ecstatic one. "I mean_ someday_."_

_A wide grin crossed his face. "Well,_ of course _we are."_

_This was the happiest day of her life since–_

_"And now," she watched in confusion as he stepped in front of her and turned to face her, "I_ never _want it off your finger."_

_It really took her longer than it should've to realize what he was doing as he went down on one knee before her, but the moment she did her heart raced and her breath came in gasps._

_"Will you marry me?" he asked simply._

_Her heart was so full she couldn't speak around the lump in her throat, so she silently held out her hand to him. Her heart skipped several beats as she watched him slide his mother's ring onto her finger, fingertips caressing her palm. With a sigh of joy at the utter rightness of finally wearing this ring–the ring that'd brought them together–she raised her hand as she had the first time they met and lifted her gaze to meet his over the tips of her fingers. There was no suppressing the happiness on her face. "What do you think?" she teased, her voice thick from the emotion clogging it._

_Chuckling, her Charming swiftly rose to his feet, reaching for her as she was already pulling him into her arms._

_Who'd have thought, she wondered to herself as they lost themselves in their first kiss as an engaged couple, when they first met that they would end up like this?_

_"Aren't you a real _Prince Charming_," she sneered._

_"I have a name you know," he countered, amused._

_"Don't care, Charming suits you."_

_He didn't seem ready to part ways, not that she was either. "If you ever need anything–"_

_"You'll find me," she completed for him in a breathless voice, unable to stop herself._

_He stared at her for a long breathless moment. "_Always_," he swore._

_He was bleeding and in obvious agony from the arrow that she had shot into his shoulder, but his gaze was clear and voice sure. "_I love you, Snow._"_

Snow White found herself on her knees in the apartment, gasping through the deluge of memories and emotions finally returned to her. She lifted her head, the object that'd triggered the full return of her memories capturing her attention again. On unsteady legs the princess forced herself to her feet, hand reaching out to run through the hanging unicorns to send them tinkling against each other, just as she'd done the first time she saw it when Charming gave it to her..._both_ times.

She pressed her fingertips to her lips, holding back a cry. Charming...he _remembered_. Snow could tell from his actions, words, the hints he'd dropped the last few months... Her husband was _awake _and had been working _so hard_ to not only get her back but to protect her as well. She _knew _that he'd somehow found the knife and put his fingerprints on it to get _her _cleared.

"Mary!"

Snow spun at Charming's startled tone, finding him–as if conjured by her very thoughts–standing just outside the open bathroom door wearing only jeans, hair wet and a towel in one hand. She could see his fingers tightening conclusively around the terry cloth, which she so easily recognized as him fighting to control his emotions.

Charming visibly forced himself to turn and head toward their bedroom. "I didn't realize it was time for our lunch date." He was trying to buy himself time to recover, to build up the emotional stamina he needed to deal with her cursed self, all the while longing for his true love, as she did for him. "I'll pull on a shirt and we can go."

Snow followed him, she couldn't yet find her voice but she _had _to tell him, somehow. And even more than that she _needed _to be near him. He pulled open a drawer, back to her. She kept moving closer, her hand reaching out and trembling violently, but she _had _to touch him. The moment her fingers came in contact with his skin he froze, his entire body going rigid, but Snow could only sigh in relief at _finally _touching her husband.

James was giving the process of choosing a shirt a great deal more time and effort than it called for, needing to collect himself. He hadn't been prepared for Mary's presence and he'd nearly called her Snow. When he felt her fingers on his back he'd stiffened, body instantly recognizing the touch, but his mind was unable to really accept what his body was telling him. While he could feel that she was shaking, the quaking eased a bit as her hand pressed more firmly against him; the way she touched him, with an assuredness, as if she had _every right _to do so, wasn't how Mary touched him. Mary's touch was always a bit timid, often seeming as if she wasn't sure he was real, or that she was _allowed _contact with him. No, it was his Snow who touched him like this, but he couldn't believe...

She leaned forward, pressing her lips to his shoulder blade, mouth curving into a satisfied smile at his shudder even as tears gathered in her eyes. "I love you, Charming," she whispered into his skin.

Abruptly he spun around, hands shooting out to grip her upper arms, blue irises searching green desperately. "_What _did you _say_?"

She managed a tremulous smile through her tears, raising her still trembling palms to cradle his face. Taking a deep breath to steady herself enough to speak, Snow said, "Charming..."

"Snow," he gasped out but then his mouth was on hers, kissing her like a man desperate for air and she was the element itself.

Her fingers dug into his shoulders, pulling herself closer, perhaps trying to find a way to become one person, while his arms locked around her waist like steel bands attempted to do the same. It was long moments before they separated in the least, and then it was only to pull their lips apart when air was becoming an issue.

James' fingers traced her features. "Snow." Her real name was sweet on his lips, he couldn't say it enough.

Cupping his jaw, she drank in his beloved, familiar face. "You found me," Snow whispered.

That crooked grin she so loved quirked his mouth, fingers now following the curve of her ear. "Did you ever doubt I would?"

Eyes once again filling with tears, Snow used her grip on his shoulders to pull herself up and matched her lips to his.

James grabbed the hem of her sweater and tugged it up over her head and off, needing to see and touch more of her, the physical proof that she was once again his Snow. Once the top was discarded she hooked her fingers in the waistband of his jeans, pulling him back against her, eliminating the small amount of space that'd formed between them, and bringing their mouths together again. James chuckled into the kiss, he'd missed this about Snow, that she enjoyed initiating things in their lovemaking and could even be aggressive; Mary hadn't been so bold ever.

His wife nipped the corner of his jaw teasingly before trailing her lips to the pulse at his throat and resting there.

She let out a relieved sigh at the strong, steady beat under her lips. "I found you. In the nursery…lying in a pool of your own blood," she whispered against his skin. Her eyes squeezed shut, trying to block out the haunting image. "There was _so much_ blood. You were so still… I thought– I thought that you were…" A sob ripped from her.

James held her tighter, kissing her anywhere his mouth could reach without creating any distance between them. "I'm here, Snow." He took her hand and pressed her palm over his heart. "I'm alive. We're both alive. And we're together now…_truly_ together."

Snow crushed her lips to his in a deep kiss, hands fumbling with the button on his jeans. James' fingers somehow managed to blindly find the tiny zipper at the back of her skirt and slid it down, letting the fabric pool around her feet. His pants were a bit more of a struggle but with their joint efforts the denim joined her clothing on the floor and they stumbled toward the bed.

Pushing him back onto the mattress, Snow straddled him, lips trailing over every inch of his skin, almost seeming to try and reclaim him with her touch alone. She paused, lingering over the scars on his shoulder and side, badges of honor, evidence of how hard he fought to protect their daughter and how close he came to dying to do it. "Regina nearly took both of you from me."

He rolled them over, bracing his weight above her on his elbows, blue eyes locked with hers. "Don't think like that. It didn't happen. I'm alive. And I won't let anyone separate us again." Grasping her face between his palms, James kissed her fiercely.

They set about trying to make up for 28 years apart–the last few months while she was still Mary Margaret only half-counted according to Snow. Rediscovering marks and scars–he spent a good ten minutes tracing the scar she got at the age of seven falling out of a tree and breaking her leg, she took her time on the birthmark that she said was shaped like a lion on his hip, he connected the moles and freckles on her back that he always said formed the unicorn constellation from their world and her tongue laved the scar in his side where he was nearly gored by a branch after being thrown from a horse at thirteen–and familiarizing themselves with new ones. They simply enjoyed finally being together again, no false memories or bars between them and both fully conscious.

Snow rolled them over so that she was on top and slowly she lowered herself into him, both of them gasping. James' hands urged her movements, his wife's head falling back as she rose and lowered herself rhythmically, the feeling so familiar to them. He pushed himself up to sit, hand cupping the back of her neck and crushing their lips together in a sloppy but loving kiss. Crying out each other's names–their _real _names–they fell back into the pillows, a tangle of limbs and sheets.

Snuggling into his side, Snow pressed a kiss into the hollow of his shoulder. James swept her sweaty bangs aside, kissing her forehead with a contented sigh, letting their fingers tangle and dance. A frown suddenly crossed her husband's face and he lifted her right hand, staring at the emerald gem winking on her middle finger. He slid the ring off and prompted her to sit up with him, taking her left hand, he returned their ring to its proper place.

Snow grinned through the tears crowding her eyes, the memory of his proposal still fresh. Cupping her husband's cheek, she kissed him, teasingly nipping his lower lip as she pulled back from his smiling lips. "I missed you, Charming."

Thumb wiping away the moisture that'd gathered at the corner of her eye, he kissed her back. "I missed you too, my darling Snow."

O~U~A~T

Snow's back! :-D Now…who's looking forward to Snow and Regina meeting up? ;-)


	31. Confrontations

YES! My dearies and darlings! I've updated! I know I'd usually be updating "Once Upon a Time…and Again", but edits are taking a while since it's a long chapter! I hope that this is good! :-D Thank you for all of the feedback! For those interested, there's a link to the video promo for my next Snowing story "Until…" in my profile! I'll start posting it after I finish "Hot Chocolate". Without further ado…

Thank you, my dartie! XD For being such a freaking KICK ASS beta and doing all of this editing for my muse who's decided to run amok the last couple of weeks!

O~U~A~T

**Confrontations**

Snow and James remained curled in bed, speaking softly together, kissing lazily and holding each other tightly.

"I've missed you so, Snow." He brushed the fringe from her eyes, skimming his lips across her temple.

"And I you," his wife murmured. The gem on her ring flashing caught her attention, a deep frown tugging at her lips. "I'll have to switch it back," she commented quietly.

James' gaze followed hers, expression illustrating how little the prospect of her removing the ring from her ring finger appealed to him. After several moments of tracing the jewel, he remembered something. "Hold on." The prince reached over to his bedside table, pulling the drawer open and removing a small item before closing it again.

Snow's eyebrows shot up her forehead when she realized that the item was a small, velvet jewelry box…one the size for a ring. She accepted it when he handed it to her, popping the lid to find a lovely, simple ring with four tiny emeralds set in a diamond shape. Her eyes went to his.

His fingers carded through her short locks. "I bought it as an engagement ring just before I was arrested; I planned on proposing soon…I wanted it to be official between us here. I wanted everyone in Storybrooke to know that you are mine, officially, and that I'm yours."

The princess handed the box back to him, crossing her arms and smirking. "Well, are you going to do it properly?"

He chuckled, reaching out for her hand; regretfully he switched her actual engagement ring back to her right middle finger. Then he removed the new ring from the box and took hold of her left hand again. "Will you marry me, Snow…again?"

"Well," she laughed lightly, "since you asked so nicely."

"What's wrong with simply saying yes?" he teasingly questioned as he slipped the ring onto her finger.

Snow kissed him. "Do you really think I _could_ just say yes?"

"True." He kissed her back, both of them smiling into it.

They sat with their foreheads pressed together for a several heartbeats.

Pain crept into Snow again, they'd spoken of it earlier and it was coming back anew, a fresh wound reopening, it probably would do so for a while. "Emma."

His arms tightened around her. "I know. But she's here. She found us."

Snow squeezed her eyes shut. "But this _world_…it's hurt her _so_ much!" She lifted her head to meet his gaze. "And _we_ sent her to this-this _place_! We sent her here _all alone_!"

James stroked her cheek. "Regina wouldn't have let her live. You _know_ that, my darling. She wouldn't have permitted the _one_ _person_ who could break her curse the chance to do so." He pressed his lips to her temple. "At best she would've been trapped as an infant _forever_. The curse would've _never_ been broken. And we would've all been separated forever…" Holding his wife close he continued, "As much as we both _hate_ it, and that it breaks our hearts and has caused Emma _so much_ pain…this was honestly the best way it could've gone in the horrible, impossible situation we were handed."

Tears slipping silently down her face, hand pressed to her empty womb, Snow was more than willing to let her husband hold her and do his best to try and reassure her. She knew he was right, that with the position that Regina had put them in there really _hadn't_ been any other choice, they'd been trapped with no options. But that didn't ease the guilt and pain she felt.

After a while, she slowly pulled out of his embrace. "I should get dinner started, Emma…" her voice cracked and it took a few breaths before she was able to continue, "Emma will be home soon."

Reluctantly, James released her, watching closely the weight of her grief, visible in every line of her bowed shoulders. He rose from bed and dressed quickly alongside her, no intention of leaving her for even a moment, knowing that the emotional roller coaster that she'd been on all day–hell for _weeks_, ever since the memories had begun to return–had worn her completely down.

He puttered around the kitchen with her–they hadn't really had the chance to do this much, cook together, back home, in the Enchanted Forest, but it still felt comfortable, familiar, and was _exactly_ what Snow needed. James watched the noodles they were boiling for Mary Margaret's homemade baked macaroni and cheese recipe. All of them desperately in need of the comfort food.

"So..." Snow began tentatively, keeping her eyes on the cheese she was grating, "do you really think that Emma's starting to believe?" Green eyes slowly lifted to blue.

James nodded but there was a grim set to his mouth. "She's starting to…but she's fighting it. All she's ever known is this cold hard world where faith is scorned and belief punished. It's beaten her down repeatedly." After draining the pasta, he pressed his palms against the edge of the counter. "And for 28 years she's believed that we just dumped her at the side of a road." James wrapped an arm around his wife as she let out a sob. "After having such a thing drilled into her for so long trying to convince her otherwise will be difficult. It's gonna take time and patience."

Snow leaned into him, absorbing as much comfort from him as she could. "It's going to be painful, isn't it?"

He couldn't lie to her. "Yes."

Her eyes squeezed shut. "Haven't we all suffered enough?! Why can't we just simply be happy?"

Charming pressed his lips to her forehead. "True love isn't easy. But it's always worth fighting for," he echoed his own words from decades before.

A tear escaped from the corner of Snow's eye, James caught it on his finger, kissing her temple.

"We're a family. And somehow we'll make this work."

Keys scrapping in the lock of the front door broke the moment. Snow swiped at the tears in her eyes, turning a terrified gaze to her husband. James nodded to her reassuringly: Yes, he understood. He knew the fear, exhilaration, hope and despair she was feeling.

The prince turned as their daughter entered, grinning in welcome at her tentative movements and wary gaze. "Hey, Em." He knew that she noticed Snow behind him trying to compose herself, but Emma was keeping her attention on him. "Dinner's nearly ready."

"Great." She fidgeted with her keys, posture nervous, guarded. "What're we having?"

Snow cleared her throat, turning with a warm smile on her face, struggling to hide the tumult of emotions she was feeling. "Baked mac 'n cheese. Plenty of leftovers."

"Great." She still hadn't moved from the door.

David knew that their daughter could tell something in "Mary" had changed, and probably part of her suspected what but she wasn't ready for that leap of faith. "Em," he began as he turned to pour the noodles into the pan where they would bake, gently nudging his wife to keep her from staring at their daughter and making her uncomfortable. "Would take mind setting the table?"

Some of the tension slipped from the blonde's frame. "Sure." She hung her keys on their hook along with her jacket.

While Emma was setting plates on the table James leaned down to Snow's ear, a comforting hand pressed to the small of her back. "I know it's hard, darling," he whispered, "but we have to be careful. We don't want to scare her away."

Green eyes squeezed shut, she nodded, her pain reflected on her face. "I know."

Emma was grabbing silverware when she stopped dead. "Is that a ring?"

Snow's head shot up and followed her daughter's gaze to the ring Charming had just given her, and held it up smiling. "Yeah. Ch-John just proposed."

The blonde managed a genuine, if still tinged with wariness, smile. "That's great." She included James in her gaze. "Congratulations."

He wrapped his arm around Snow's shoulders. "Thanks, Em."

She shoved her hands into her pockets. "I'm really happy for you guys."

Snow caught one of her daughter's hands before it was tucked away, squeezing it, desperately needing the physical connection. "Thank you, Emma."

The blonde smiled, nodding, as she released the grip. "I'm gonna take a quick shower," their daughter announced.

Snow wrung her hands, wanting nothing more than to dash up to her daughter and wrap her in a hug, but she held herself back. "That's great. The macaroni should be out of the oven by the time you're done."

Emma bit her lip, finger tapping her badge clipped to her belt. "Sounds good…thanks…" her voice trailed off.

Her mother smiled hopefully, quickly saying, "You're welcome!"

After another awkward beat Emma walked to the bathroom, though her parents could tell that at least part of her wanted to run.

Snow's face crumpled, James quickly stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her shoulders from behind, kissing her crown.

"I can hardly breathe, Charming. She doesn't trust us _at all_."

"No," he murmured into her locks. "That's not true. She trusts us. If she _really_ didn't she wouldn't still be here."

Her emerald eyes slid closed. "I guess. But she doesn't trust us like she did before as simply John and Mary Margaret."

He was silent for several moments. "She just doesn't know how to deal with…_us_. Snow and Charming. Or how to deal with all of…_this_ being true."

"I know that she has _every_ reason to feel the way she does, and more, but…" Tears trickled down her cheeks. "It hurts."

James swallowed hard, kissing her temple. "I know."

O~U~A~T

Two days later things were still tense with Emma. She seemed to spend as much time at work as she could, only coming home to change clothes, sleep–usually _long_ after Snow and Charming had already gone to bed–and when she was tired of eating at Granny's. Snow was discouraged, tired and her stomach had been acting up for days now. And with Charming having been back at work full time for days, she was glad to have restarted teaching; it helped take her mind off of everything.

Snow watched the children, chuckling at their antics. The Enchanted Forest or Storybrooke, in most worlds children were very much the same. Full of life and mischief.

"Miss Blanchard."

Her back went ramrod straight. Regina. She had to take several deep breaths before turning to face her stepmother. Seeing Regina not as the intimidating mayor but as the woman who saved her life, helped raise her, whom young Snow had loved–and truthfully part of her _still_ did. The woman who murdered Snow's father, seized the throne, whom Snow and Charming defeated together. The woman who cursed them all into this place…the one who took their daughter away from them for 28 years, making them miss _everything_.

Regina strode up to her smirking. "I see you're back."

Her own mouth quirked, feeling satisfaction knowing that they'd defeated her, that they were breaking the curse bit by bit. "Yes." She smiled pleasantly. "Isn't it wonderful? Everything worked out."

Snow could see the grimace Regina tried to hide behind the smile and looking away.

"Henry forgot his lunch. Have you seen him?" She looked around for the boy–_Snow's_ grandson, she was still reeling from _that_ realization, class that day would be the first time she'd seen him since remembering.

_Gods_, she inwardly worried, _how was she supposed to act normally around her _grandchild_?! How did Charming do it?!_

"He's with his mother," she said, knowing it was petty, but enjoying the look on the elder woman's face. After all Regina had put them all through, both in the Enchanted Forest and _here,_ the princess felt she'd earned a _little_ leeway for a few jabs.

The mayor's head whipped back around. "Ms. Blanchard, is there a problem?"

Still smiling, Snow shook her head. "Not anymore." The smile disappeared. "Though someone _did_ go to a _lot_ of trouble to make it _look_ like J-John and I had done something _horrible_." She took a deep breath, a smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. "But they _failed_."

"Yes. Sidney Glass," the queen said forcefully, "who's safely incarcerated."

"_If_ it was Sidney," Snow quickly countered, her doubt thick in her tone and gaze.

"Well, ask your roommate. He confessed."

Snow couldn't help the roll of her eyes. "Of _course_ he did."

Regina narrowed her eyes. "Are you insinuating something?"

"No," the princess countered, "I'm stating it."

The mayor's jaw dropped. "Why you–"

"You know, Regina," Snow quickly cut in, "I could forgive you _many_ things. But going after the ones I love… _That_ I _can't_ forgive. I just have _never_ understood how making others miserable could make you happy, because it _can't_ be a healthy or truly lasting happiness." She shook her head. "It truly is _so sad_, because in the end…no matter _what_ you think, it _won't_ make you _really_ happy. In fact it will leave a giant void in your heart."

Regina gaped at her.

"So, I forgive you for what you did to _me_. But," she took a step closer to her stepmother, "if you _ever_ touch John or Emma again, or if Henry ever suffers even a _moment_ because of you, _nothing_ will save you." While the elder woman was still too stunned to say or do anything, Snow looked just beyond her shoulder. "There's Henry." It took everything in her to walk away, rather than snatching her grandson up in a tight hug.

This was going to be a _long_ day.

O~U~A~T

Snow was making last minute preparations in the classroom before her students came in.

"Hey, Mary!"

She froze. Henry. Slowly she turned, eyes doing a quick sweep to make sure there was no one else before finally allowing them to rest on her grandson. "Hi, Henry."

An instant later he'd plowed into her, hugging her around the waist, grinning up at her. "I'm _so_ glad you're back!"

Snow swallowed back the lump lodged in her throat, running her fingers through his short brown hair. "Me too."

A concerned frown pulled his lips down. "You ok, Mary?"

Heart squeezing tightly, she managed a smile. "Yeah… This…this is…a _great_ start to my first day back."

Henry's grin was brilliant. "Really?"

"Yes." She bit her lip, casting a quick glance at the door and then looked back at him. "A hug from my grandson is the _best_ start I could ask for."

His eyes were as wide as saucers. "Grandson?" he whispered. Henry's face lit up. "You remember?"

She cradled his face between her palms. "Yes… I do."

Henry lunged back into her embrace, head tilted back to look up at her. "So, can I call you Grandma or Grams, when it's just you and me and Gramps?"

Snow couldn't stop the gasp that escaped her, tears welling in her eyes. "Yeah…I would _really_ like that."

He grinned at her brilliantly. "Awesome…Grams!"

Ruffling his hair, she chuckled. "Yeah, _very_ awesome."

He caught her hand as she was pulling it away, staring at the ring. "But this isn't you guys' ring." He looked up at her, frowning.

Twisting the ring on her finger, his grandmother smiled at him fondly. "No. I've always had our ring and I couldn't suddenly use it as an engagement ring. So, your Gramps gave me this one so that we can tell everyone that we're at least engaged."

"So…" The boy bounced on the balls of his feet. "Are you guys going to get married again?"

"Depending on what happens with the curse, that's the plan."

His mouth quirked to the side. "Can we tell my mom that you guys remember yet?

The princess laughed softly at his petulant tone. "No, not yet." She combed her hand through his hair. "But…maybe soon."

O~U~A~T

Soooooo…was it ok? O.O I know Snow hasn't totally gotten into it with Regina yet, she's trying to protect her family and herself so she has to watch her step at least SOMEWHAT. And I know it wasn't all kisses and puppies with Emma, she's still in denial and it's going to take some time and a clearing some garbage from the air before we can get to some bonding. I hope you guys like it! :-D Now, I'm off to part 2 of "Tu contiens ton oeil le couchant et l'aurore" which is proving to be a LOT of fun and VERY hot! XD


	32. Of Mobiles and Poker Faces

SO sorry about the delay! For those who don't read my other story Once Upon a Time…and Again or who follow Twitter, I had a lot going on in my life of late. My grandma passed in February so writing wasn't something I was up for for a while, and work has kept me busy. But I'm back, hopefully I won't be having too many long stretches of no updates again, but we'll have to see what life has to say! :-) Thank you, all, for the messages, tweets, faves, alerts, reviews and support! :-D Here it is my dearies and darlings! :-D

In memory of my grandmother. I miss you, Grandma!

BIG thanks and hugs to my lovely dartie! :-D You're beyond awesome!

O~U~A~T

**Of Mobiles and Poker Faces**

Snow never knew why but she found folding clothes soothing, the rest of the process of doing laundry wasn't her favorite–she and Emma and James had actually worked out a deal with this chore where the blond pair would do the actual washing, which they preferred, and she'd fold–but the rhythmic movements helped her think and organize her thoughts. A few weeks had passed since Snow's memories returned and it was obvious that Emma was still torn about how to deal with the implications of recent events, that "Mary Margaret" and "John" really were her parents. However, she'd at least gotten back into the habits of coming home at a normal hour and eating dinner with them, sitting around and talking with Snow like normal and joking around with James as she'd done before. The couple breathed a sigh of relief at seeing Emma opening back up to them and were _beyond_ grateful that their daughter wasn't going to pull further away.

Tucking a lock behind her ear, the raven-haired woman moved over to her dresser, opening her underwear drawer and shifting things around to make room for the items she'd just gotten out of the dryer. Her fingers brushed something that was sharper and harder than her underclothes, frowning she removed the item; the moment she could tell _exactly_ what it was her eyebrows flew to her hairline. _Where...?_ she wondered.

"_Is that all that it is?"_

"_What do you mean?"_

"_Maybe there's another reason for you throwing up."_

"Ruby," Snow murmured to herself. Her friend must have bought it and left it for her to find while Snow had been with Charming at the jail that evening.

Meanwhile, another part of her mind was counting back, tallying the days she'd been sick at some point during the day, the last time since her period... Her eyes grew wide. Without another thought she threw the underwear carelessly into the drawer and dashed to the bathroom, small box in hand.

O~U~A~T

Opening the door to the apartment he shared with his wife and daughter, James let out a weary breath. It'd been a long day, dealing with mostly minor incidents, however getting the involved parties to calm down and completing the paperwork had all been _extremely_ exhausting. Technology aside, Storybrooke was remarkably similar to the Enchanted Forest when it came to some things, among them that he spent the majority of his days smoothing ruffled feather and slogging through paperwork. Some days he almost wished for dragons…

His gaze was caught by the vision of his wife standing before the unicorn mobile, one hand playing with a glass figurine and the other pressed to her stomach. The sun spilling through the window over her gave Snow an ethereal glow. Fingers tracing the unicorn's features, a soft smile graced her face.

"Snow?"

She turned and met his questioning gaze with a bright grin. "Charming." Her hand extended to him invitingly, James more than willingly complied, his larger hand enenveloping hers.

James wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing his wife's cheek before settling his chin on her shoulder. "Contemplating a new place for the mobile?" he asked teasingly.

"Actually I was thinking," she began nonchalantly, "if Emma's alright with it once we tell her, it would look perfect over a crib."

His heart seized in his chest, freezing him on the spot. "_What_?!" he managed to gasp out.

"We could put the crib by our bed for now, though we probably need to look into getting a larger place eventually–"

He grasped her waist spinning Snow around to face him, eyes wide, searching hers. "Snow...wha–are...?" Blue eyes went to her flat stomach.

Her fingers carded through his short blond hair, biting her bottom lip nervously. "Apparently we weren't being as careful as we thought."

A choked sound that sounded a cross between a laugh, sob and yelp escaped her husband before he swept her into his arms, holding her tightly as he spun her around. "Gods," he gasped. "You're sure?"

Snow pulled back enough to meet his questing gaze. "Beyond the positive pregnancy test, I've had too many of the symptoms and missed my period for too long for me to believe otherwise."

His palm pressed to her tummy, above where their baby was growing, the emotions flickered behind his eyes at a dizzying speed, torn between joy and terror, elation and despair. "This is...I mean I'm..."

Her hand cupped his cheek, prompting him to once again meet her emerald orbs. "I know...and the timing...sucks," neither could help the chuckles that escaped them at her using the very Storybrooke slang, "but...we'll make it work." Her lips trembled. "I–I've wanted this _so_ badly for us, Charming."

Finally James couldn't help it and caved to the green eyes pleading him to be happy about this wonderful miracle. A smile curved his mouth and he strok her earlobe with his thumb as he nodded. "We'll make it work..." He sank to his knees before her, hands stroking her sides as he pressed his lips over her womb. "Hey, little one. I'm your daddy." He nuzzled the spot. "I love you and your mommy _so_ very much."

A small sob escaped Snow, drawing his gaze back to her watery smile, offering her a grin of his own before pressing another kiss to her stomach.

O~U~A~T

Snow felt like dancing around the kitchen, but at the same time also wanted to run in fear, watching as Emma set the dinner table out of the corner of her eye. Things had been slowly returning to normal in their home and relationship, and Snow was leery of possibly upsetting things between all of them again. While Snow and James wanted their daughter to be the first one they told about the baby, they feared that it might push Emma away again. There just wasn't a manual for how to tell your grown daughter, who was struggling with the idea that she actually _was_ your daughter, that you're going to have a baby…

James took the tray of tacos from Snow's hands before she could take it to the table; she shot him a mild glare for the overprotective hovering, to which he responded with a half-grin and a kiss to her temple, before she relented and pointedly picked up the salad bowl. The three of them settled into their usual seats around the small table, each serving themselves from the dishes on the table and exchanging happenings of their days. When Snow opted for a glass of ginger ale rather than the Syrah Emma and James had selected, the blonde's eyes narrowed.

"Is there a particular reason you're abstaining, Mary?" Her gaze flicked between her parents.

Snow and James looked at each other. _Guess it's time to let the cat out of the bag,_ she thought.

"_Seriously_?!"

The couple's gazes flew to their daughter, whose eyebrows had relocated to her hairline, and was staring in the direction of Snow's stomach.

Emma then shut her eyes and shook her head. "You know what, never mind. Why am I even _surprised_? You two have been together for months now and engaged and all that."

Neither seemed to know what to say for several moments.

"Well," James finally began, turning to Snow, "I guess we _don't_ have to actually tell her seeing as neither of us has a poker face."

Snow swatted his arm before turning her attention back to her daughter. "I just found out today and we wanted you to be the first to know." She bit her lip nervously.

Emma turned the stem of the wineglass between her fingers. "Do you need me to move out?"

"_No_!" The answer was immediate, emphatic and simultaneous from the anxious parents.

James reached out and squeezed Emma's hand briefly, quickly releasing it before she could become uncomfortable. "We're planning on having the baby sleep in our room for quite a while, so we're not really worried about space just yet."

"We _want_ you to stay, Emma," Snow assured her. "For however long you want to. You're our family, the only family we have."

The blond woman continued to glance between their expressions, still fidgeting with the glass, before finally nodding, a smile slowly lifting her lips as she raised her glass towards them. "Congratulations, you two."

Matching grins spread across the couple's faces as they lifted their glasses as well, to clink against their daughter's. "Thank you."

O~U~A~T

So there you are! :-D Charming and Snow are going to be parents again and they've told Emma! :-D How was it? O.O I hope it didn't feel OOC! O.O Thank you for reading and let me know what you think!


	33. Denial Ain't Just a River in Egypt

I know that it has been taking me a while to get chapters up and I've started a story for Arrow, but I promise that I'm not giving up on this story or Once Upon a Time…and Again! I will continue to write them and I will finish them! Thank you so much all of you who've hung in there with me, especially over the last couple of years and all of the turbulence in my real life, and the issues with writer's block. Thank you for your encouragement! I love how much you all enjoy this story and my other ones! I wanted to get this posted before Christmas, because…well…mostly just for the principle of it. XD

Dartie, thank you for long chats, brainstorming sessions and sometimes knocking me upside the head when I need it. ;-)

O~U~A~T

**Denial Ain't Just a River in Egypt**

Snow tried to hide a grin as Charming once again grumbled about Emma going off with August earlier that day. It was well after dark and James had only grown more and more antsy since the sun had set.

"Maybe I should go and find them."

She pushed him back into his chair at the table as he tried to get up. "She's fine!" The princess pat her husband's shoulder. "She's _my_ daughter, if he tries anything I'd be more worried about _him_ than her." A pleased, proud smirk quirked her mouth as she returned to stirring the chicken and dumpling soup on the stove.

James huffed out a breath as he slumped back in the chair, arms crossed with a pout on his face.

Snow laughed softly at her husband's petulance.

Her mirth was cut off by the apartment door being flung open and then slammed shut.

The couple's wide eyes went to the form of their daughter storming across the floor, swiping tears from her face. James was out of his chair before Emma had even made it one more step, and they were both at the blonde's side only seconds later.

"Emma, what's wrong?!"

Emma flinched from them, causing the couple to recoil. She had her arms wrapped around herself, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. "August…" Her voice trailed off and then she stalked over to the sitting area and began pacing agitatedly.

Her parents approached her cautiously.

"What about August?" Snow inquired, knowing it'd be better if she asked, because James was more likely to phrase it in an antagonistic manner with the fury she could already feel beginning to roll off of him.

Their daughter's jaw clenched and unclenched convulsively. "He was going on and on about how I'm the _Savior_," she finally spat out. "He kept saying that everyone's happiness is all up to me, and that's _bullshit_! It's all utter _crap_!"

James' hands were clenched in white-knuckle fists at his sides, and Snow was at the moment too pissed and frustrated herself to try and calm him.

"Even if any of that fairy tale crap is true, I didn't _ask_ for this!" The blonde waved her hands around herself, too agitated to remain still. "This isn't _my_ fault. It isn't _my_ responsibility to make sure everyone is happy!"

Snow couldn't hold back any more and finally surged forward, wrapping her daughter tightly in her arms. "Of course it isn't! Even if the whole curse is real, people's happiness is for _themselves_ to find, and to build." She pulled back just enough to look the blonde in the eye. "You aren't responsible for them finding happiness. We're each responsible for ourselves and our own lives."

Emma seemed to slump a bit into her, at last returning the embrace, holding the dark-haired woman tightly. "I can't…" She buried her face in her mother's shoulder. "I don't think I can do this…" The words came out muffled against the fabric of Snow's sweater.

The bandit-princess stroked a hand up and down her daughter's back. "Whatever happens we'll work it out…together."

Over Emma's shoulder she saw her husband quietly slip out of the apartment, feeling grimly satisfied to know that he would be making their displeasure _blindingly_ clear to August.

O~U~A~T

The door opened under James' heavy pounding to reveal the dark-haired young man he'd left his upset wife and daughter to deal with. Immediately the prince slammed his already-formed fist into that face, causing the other man to stagger back and fall gracelessly to the ground in a heap. The fair-haired man stepped into the room far enough to tower over August.

"Stay the _hell_ away from my daughter!" he snarled.

For a beat the other man silently stared up at him. "I was only trying to help, majesty," August tried to defend himself, cradling his jaw where a bruise was already forming.

"Well, you did a _shit_ job of that! You made it _worse_!"

"You know the truth, you know who you _are_. We _have_ to make her—"

"You don't have to do a damn _thing_."He leaned down and got in the sprawled man's face. "You even _try_ to speak to her and you'll live to regret it. My wife and I will make sure of that." He straightened up and spun on his heel, heading for the door.

"Do you know who I am?" he heard from behind him.

"I don't give a damn," he snapped over his shoulder as he slammed the door shut behind him.

O~U~A~T

Emma was bundled up on the couch, their thickest, fluffiest throw blanket wrapped around her, shoes discarded on the floor and feet curled up under her. Mary was bustling around the kitchen getting the blonde a bowl of the delicious smelling soup that'd been heating on the stove. Her pregnancy hormones in full-mothering-swing, insisting on taking care of Emma.

"Here." She pressed the warm ceramic dish and a spoon into the sheriff's palm, with a gentle smile. "I'll go get you a glass of that red we picked up yesterday." The raven-haired woman scampered back to the kitchen area.

The blonde watched her friend pour her a glass while pouring herself a cup of tea and then carrying both over to the coffee table, setting the wine in front of Emma before curling up in the chair next to the couch.

"Forget him," Mary advised, sipping her tea.

Emma started down at the soup stirring it. "Yeah…it's all crazy talk…curses…fairy tales…" She ignored the fact that she sounded more like she was trying to convince herself.

Mary was silent for a moment before lightly saying, "Of course."

The blonde nodded firmly.

"Emma."

She looked up at Mary's soft voice, meeting her jade-green stare.

"You're not responsible for others' happiness…or their actions. You're the sheriff, not a god. Each person is responsible for themselves. You can only be answerable to yourself."

Emma felt a weight lift slightly off of her shoulders. "Thanks, Mare."

Mary stood and headed toward the kitchen again, squeezing Emma's shoulder as she passed. "Any time, Em."

As the other woman was ladling out a bowl for herself, the door to the apartment opened admitting John.

"Hey, Em." He managed to toss her a smile.

"Hey, John." She was grateful that he didn't broach the subject of what happened earlier at all.

He moved into the kitchen, pressing a kiss to Mary's lips with a soft greeting.

Emma did _not_ notice the way that Mary's eyes went wide over the visible, even from Emma's spot on the couch, bruising and cuts on his fist. Or the way Mary cradled that fist in her hands, inspecting it, gently laying kisses on it, before moving over to the freezer for an ice pack. Nor did she watch as one of her best friends helped ice her other best friend's injured hand, planting a sound, warm kiss on his lips. And Emma _certainly_ didn't feel a deep sense of satisfaction at guessing the source of that injury, or gratitude toward her protective, caring deputy.

"Thank you," the blonde quietly murmured around her wineglass as John settled into the couch next to her.

There was the slightest uptick of his lips as he cradled his hand and the icepack to his chest. "You're welcome."

O~U~A~T

So, obviously I have no real love for August and how he went about things with Emma, nor was I thrilled when we found out what Geppetto did, and I was actually pissed that they made Mary Margaret out to be the bad guy for slapping him when she found out that he'd had Blue lie about the wardrobe, because I would've slapped the hell out of him too. I've been looking forward to having Charming punch August for a LONG time! XD Thank you so much for reading! I hope that all of your holidays are going awesome! Whatever you celebrate I hope you have a fantastic holiday season! Happy Holidays, everyone! :-D


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